Crossing Paths
by TessaSpencer
Summary: TonyAngela: A new spin on how they met. Totally AU. Circa 1983


"Tony, eh, you need to go out man, and if that means I have to drag you, I will." Philly 'Fingers' made a fist and playfully hit Tony in the shoulder.  
  
"Eh, oh, I don't hafta go out. There ain't no law sayin' I've gotta have fun every night of the week." Tony countered, wishing that his friend would give it a break. He'd been out a few times that month and to no avail. Every woman he dated wanted too much from him, or was too ready to hop into bed with him. Somewhere in between there was a fine line, and even Tony himself wasn't sure where it was; he just knew he wasn't ready to settle on something that wasn't comfortable.  
  
Tony Micelli had his fair share of easy women in the day, but he was older now, more mature and not willing to bring that kind of woman back to his daughter. His beloved wife Marie was dead just under two years, and as much as he longed for companionship, he wasn't about to find it with some two-bit hussy, he decided. It wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair to Marie's memory.  
  
"No, but there's gotta be a law that says a guy like you can't stay home every night watchin' TV and playing with toy cars..." Philly shot a knowing look at Tony.  
  
"A guy like me? What kinda guy am I, Philly?"  
  
"You're a babe magnet, man, and you know it as well as I do. Don't pretend you don't. Every chick melts when she sees you, and instead of takin' advantage of that, you stay here and play with Sam."  
  
Tony looked at his friend with nothing but anger in his eyes. "You sayin' I shouldn't be spendin' time with my daughter? You sayin' that I should be running around dropping my draw'rs for anything with long legs?"  
  
"No, I'm sayin' when Marie died, you didn't so would you start livin' again? Everyone can see it Tony! You're hidin' behind Sam so you don't have to do anything but be here for her or work, and every single girl in the neighbourhood has been chasin' you around like love sick puppies and you offer to help 'em move, or carry their groceries but you ain't never made a pass at 'em."  
  
"Not true," he said indignantly. "I went out with Sherri last week and the week before that I went out with Laura Giovanni, you can't tell me I ain't goin' out."  
  
"Yeah, and you had 'em home in time for Carson. Face it, Ton, you ain't got no drive to do anything but talk. Or bowl, for cryin' out loud, it's not a very Tony thing to do! You just don't date any more—you talk to them while they're nibblin' on your ear!"  
  
"Hey, it's not my fault Gina got ahead of herself. I told her I just wanted to watch the movie!"  
  
Philly sighed. "Who watches the movies any more Ton?"  
  
"I do!"  
  
"That's the problem."  
  
"There ain't no problem!"  
  
"Prove it—let's go out. We'll even go uptown. Won't stay in Brooklyn. No worries about knowin' no one, and we'll see what happens?" Philly hoped that his friend would take him up on his offer. After all, it seemed like the only way to break Tony out of his rut.  
  
"What's the point? I don't want to pick up some cheap woman. I just want Marie back and since that ain't gonna happen, I think I might as well spend some time with my little girl. She's growin' up and she needs me." Tony collapsed on to his sofa.  
  
"Come with me, and if you hate it, I promise I won't drag you out again 'til next month, deal?"  
  
Looking up at his friend, Tony was certain that there was no way around it. He'd have to give in, if only to preserve his sanity. "No where here in Brooklyn?"  
  
"Manhattan okay?"  
  
"We don't belong in Manhattan," Tony pointed out.  
  
"Ah, but you don't want no one to know ya. This is the best bet." Philly smiled mischievously at his friend.  
  
"Okay, deal. But if I hate it, I'm leavin'."  
  
"Deal."  
  
2***  
  
Mona could not believe she was there, begging her daughter to come out with her. Of all the people she'd like to take out for a night on the town, mysteriously enough, Angela wasn't one of them. Ever since her husband Michael had left, Angela had been even more of a drag, insisting that all she needed to do was work. She wasn't even particularly present in the raising of her son, which had predominantly handled by nannies and a string of housekeepers.  
  
"Angela, get your nose out of those folders and come with me," Mona whined, staring at her daughter who seemed to be almost hiding behind file folders.  
  
"Mother, unlike you I have a job and commitments. I have to take care of this account and eventually I should go pick Jonathon up." Angela wasn't very convincing in her reasons why she shouldn't go out. For a thirty-two year old woman, Mona sometimes wondered if her daughter acted like a ninety- two year old instead and if so, if it was only to frustrate her.  
  
"Jonathon is having more fun with Richard Wellington at his birthday party than he would if you picked him up and took him home to play another rousing game of Monopoly. 'Fess up, Angela, your son is happy right now, your accounts are probably all strictly in order, and you're just trying to avoid fun!" Mona's tone was more than merely confrontational—it was daring the younger blonde to prove her wrong.  
  
"And what if I am? What if I don't want to go out to some sleezy bar with you and watch you pick up men? What if I'd rather go home and have a long bath than to be stuck in that?" Now in her defensive stance, Angela's arms were crossed firmly across her chest, her eyes daring her mother to square off with her. This was her turf, and she was not going to give up with out a fight.  
  
"Then I'd say you're crazy. Come with me. Swing 46 on 349 West 46th street has swing lessons tonight, and usually they have some hunky young men wanting to learn how to dance. Whaddya say?"  
  
"No. I really should focus on this account, and I need to get home at a reasonable hour. It's been too long since I've been home in my bed before 11."  
  
"A single woman your age should not be going home before midnight every night. If it weren't for Jonathon, I'd say you should never be home before midnight. Angela, Michael is gone, hallelujah, and now it's time to move on." Mona sat on the corner of her daughter's desk and looked down on her.  
  
"He's not been gone that long," Angela said quietly. "It's been just over a year and I'm sorry that I'm not rushing into someone's arms."  
  
"So'm I! Michael was hardly worth mourning. It's time to get out and take the world on. Come on, Angela, prove to me that there wasn't a mix up at the hospital and you really are my daughter." The glimmer in her eye should have been enough to tell Angela that there would be trouble, but instead she let her resistance break.  
  
"Okay, okay, but please don't push me off on some hairy fat guy the minute you find someone?" Her voice was almost pleading, indicating all the times that her mother had done something not that dissimilar.  
  
"As long as you promise not to call me Mother."  
  
Angela nodded as she stood up and placed all of her files neatly on her desk. Worst case scenario, she figured, she'd leave the club early and come back and get some work finished. Jonathon had planned on staying at the Wellington's house, so if she didn't go home, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She'd spent more than one night on the couch on her office, and there was a change of clothes in her closet just waiting for her to spend another.  
  
3***  
  
"A swing club? You gone crazy?" Tony looked around the club, which was ritzier than he had ever imagined him in. "This place is like...can we afford the drinks? I could barely afford the cover," Tony mumbled.  
  
"Ton, it's not as ritzy as it looks. I've been here before. Besides, the chicks here are grade 'A'." Philly checked out the surroundings, hoping to see some candidates right away to point out to his companion.  
  
"Could you not call 'em chicks? I feel like I'm here cruisin' for...You know what I mean."  
  
"We ain't?"  
  
"Philly!"  
  
"Alright, let's pull up a chair at that table right off the dance floor. It'll be like a beauty contest or somethin'." Leading his friend to a table, Philly fell into his chair before becoming distracted. "There's a hot brunette checkin' us out over there," he pointed out.  
  
Tony looked before turning back to Philly. "She looks like your type," he said plainly, waiting for the waitress to come so they could order their drinks.  
  
"Whadda ya mean my type?"  
  
"She looks like she isn't here to talk," Tony said, waiving towards the server.  
  
"I think I might need to go for a walk, Ton, but I'll be back soon."  
  
"Yeah, I know you will," he replied, smiling at the waitress who suddenly appeared. "I'd like a beer...draft, anything, please," he asked cordially, winking at the young blonde girl.  
  
When she made her way back to the bar, Tony couldn't help but wonder what happened to the man Philly was talking about—the one who would never have thought twice about seriously flirting with the server. He had been an expert at relationships: women found him and they would fall for him, and it wasn't like he hadn't enjoyed their company, or the things they'd end up doing together.  
  
But then again, once he met Marie everything had changed. Instead of just wanting to run into bed there was the inexplicable desire to have the kind of relationship people only dreamed of. Marie deserved the kindness and the romantic gestures and everything that she wanted from life. Tony had done his best to meet those standards, and somewhere along the way he changed a bit too.  
  
Maybe when Sam was older Tony could have a one off relationship, but with her still being so young and so desperately in need of him, there was no way he could imagine shaking up their lives for a one night stand.  
  
Breaking his train of thought, the waitress set a glass down in front of him on a brewer marked coaster and smiled. "Tonight's lady's night," she mentioned not-so-subtly.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Tony said dismissively, wondering if it was parenthood that had made him change so much or if it was age. He was only thirty years old. He'd just left his twenties, and yet he had a nine year old daughter. He was a widower, who'd buried his wife two years ago, and here he sat, waiting for the party to get started, hardly convinced that it would be much worth the wait.  
  
"Hey, Ton?" The voice calling across the dance floor was enough to get Tony's attention. Looking up, Tony saw Philly dancing seductively with the girl he had gone to talk to.  
  
Giving him the thumbs up, Tony felt a little betrayed by his friend. It would be a long night of sitting around waiting for Philly to be ready to head back to Brooklyn.  
  
4***  
  
When they took their seats just off the dance floor, Angela knew that her mother had serious intentions to find them both men. It was lady's night, and there were tonnes of men to be seen. The view was nothing short of a sea of testosterone occasionally peppered with tufts of blonde, brown or red teased hair.  
  
"Mother, this place is..." Searching for words, Angela hoped she could find one to accurately describe the dark bar filled to the brim with people.  
  
"Great, isn't it?" Smiling, Mona waived her hand at the waitress and brought her over to the table. "May we have a strawberry daiquiri and a pink squirrel, please?"  
  
Angela looked at her mother as if she'd requested a straight bottle of scotch.  
  
"It's a pink squirrel dear, and you'll be fine drinking it. Besides, it will be a great accessory to your pantsuit." Mona grinned. "Speaking of accessories, look at that hunk over there..."  
  
Pointing out a handsome blonde haired man who was carefully practicing his dance moves, Mona grinned. "It's lady's night here, Angela, which makes this a virtual buffet of men at our choosing. They're teaching swing dancing, and everyone in this bar is some degree of single. Smile. This is heaven." The flamboyant red head smiled vivaciously at her daughter, pleased that she hadn't gone running scared during the rant. After all, it was hardly Angela's style to go to a club, let alone pick up on someone.  
  
"When you put it that way, Mother," Angela said sarcastically.  
  
"Oh, shush, and enjoy yourself." Disappearing into the crowd, Mona waived back at her daughter who she knew would dutifully guard the coats until the appropriate time to leave arrived. If Angela got out of her chair it would be only to use the washroom.  
  
The drinks arriving, Angela decided to trade with her mother. Mona would never know the difference; the ice would melt before she returned to the table anyway.  
  
"Hi," a tall dark haired man stood at the edge of the table looking down on Angela.  
  
"Hello," she said quickly before returning her attention to the drink in front of her. She enjoyed playing with the decorative umbrella, even if it was uncouth.  
  
"My names Craig, Craig Sinterton." The newly introduced Craig remained in his position beside the table, looking down on her.  
  
"Angela."  
  
"Beautiful name, beautiful woman," he said in a low tone, bending at his knees to be at eyelevel with her.  
  
"Thank you," she blushed, before turning her attention away from him and towards the dance floor.  
  
Looking from her, to the dance floor and back, Craig offered his hand. "Might I be able to interest you in a dance? Swing dancing is much more fun with someone than without."  
  
Angela laughed at his blatant attempts but some how found it also vaguely endearing. He was showing interest in her and that was half of the challenge these days (to find someone who wasn't horrified by her determination and hard work).  
  
"I think I'll sit it out thank you," she replied sweetly. She hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly drop into the seat beside her.  
  
"I think I will too," Craig mentioned casually.  
  
Her attempts to ignore him apparently weren't insulting enough because it didn't seem to stop him from staying at the table for almost a whole music set.  
  
When the band stopped, Angela was surprised to see her mother back, plopping herself down in the third chair.  
  
"Mona Robinson," she said sweetly, offering her hand.  
  
"Craig Sinterton," he smiled, accepting the proffered hand.  
  
"Now that we all know each other, do you think we might be able to leave," Angela said in frustration.  
  
"Sure," Craig replied with that 'cat who ate the canary' look.  
  
Nervously laughing, Angela tried to regroup. "Ha ha," she said before looking towards her mother, as if asking for her to somehow exercise them of this particular demon.  
  
"Oh, the lessons are starting...Angela's a great swing dancer. You should show Craig, sweetie," Mona said, trying to repress the laughter at her daughter's disdainful look.  
  
"Oh, well now you've got to show me," he said standing and offering his hand to her.  
  
In a moment of lesser strength, Angela decided it was easier not to fight with him and have one dance. Surely that would be enough time to rid her of him.  
  
As they made their way to the dance floor, Angela tried not to notice that he was evaluating her appearance, and obviously making note of her assets. That alone would normally be enough to send her running in the opposite direction.  
  
Moving into a rather formless starting position, Craig's hands managed to find themselves resting low on her hips, only to be moved to a more appropriate place.  
  
"You're no fun," he ribbed.  
  
"You could go dance with someone else if you're looking for 'fun'," she offered, almost too cheerfully.  
  
"No, it's okay."  
  
The look on his face was much more predatory than she would have liked. He was the kind of guy, she was certain, who lacked morals and perhaps also a sense of commitment—not that she wanted a commitment from him.  
  
Within about a half dozen steps, his hands had managed their way back down her back and onto her butt.  
  
"Okay, Craig, that's it, we're done. Thank you," she said, stepping out of his grip and to the side of the dance floor.  
  
"What did I do? What's wrong? I thought we were having a good time." Craig's expression of indignation seemed even more contrived than the way he had insinuated his way into conversation with her.  
  
"You're such a snake you practically shed your skin on the dance floor," Angela announced, stepping away. "As much as my son might like creepy crawly things, I, for one, don't," she mumbled under her breath.  
  
When Craig grabbed her arm she spun on her heel to look at him. Her plan was to hit him with everything she had. But before Angela's hand managed contact with the cretin's face, someone else managed to get in the way.  
  
"Eh, oh, that's gonna leave a mark," the stranger said as Angela's hand returned to the place it had previously occupied at her side.  
  
"Oh my God, I'm sorry," she said apologetically before turning to look for Craig. Somehow he had managed to high-tail it out of her line of sight before she could re-direct her anger.  
  
"Try to help a woman and look what you get," the man said, holding his face. "Tony Micelli," he introduced. "I'm the man you hit..."  
  
"Uh, sorry 'bout that," she said before doing one final scan of the room for Craig. "Angela Bower, the one who hit you."  
  
Laughing, Tony realized that this leggy blonde—this Angela character—packed quite a punch for someone who looked otherwise demure and sweet. There probably wasn't any reason to have jumped into the not so domestic dispute. The laugh, however, simultaneously triggered a dull ache from where her hand made contact with his skin. "I saw him grab you and I thought you could use a little help," Tony explained. "Obviously you've been takin' lessons from Jackie Collins or somethin' 'cause you didn't need me."  
  
It was Angela's turn to laugh at the joke, still impressed that anyone in the club had noticed the disagreement between her and Craig. After all, everyone seemed pretty engrossed in their own attempts at finding someone.  
  
"Well, if your marriage is bad enough, you learn how to do the most damage in one swing," she teased, thinking back to the only handful of times she'd been so angry at Michael that she'd slapped him. She could name every one of them too, and would just as much like to forget each and every occasion.  
  
"Oh, jeez, sorry. That was your husband. I guess I jumped in the wrong thing..." Tony suddenly felt remorseful about his reaction. Really he didn't have much of a place stepping between a husband and wife.  
  
"God no," Angela said quickly. "That wasn't my husband. My ex-husband is trekking around the jungles of Brazil or something. That was just some guy who asked me to dance."  
  
"You think he'll be back to bother you?" Tony was trying his best to sound more concerned than captivated by this woman, but he had to admit, she was an attractive (if not somewhat uptight) woman who was probably around his age, but had an ex-husband in the wilds of the world. She definitely didn't seem to fit in at the club either and it had been awhile since a woman slapped him, let alone forcefully enough to leave him stunned. All in all this was one intriguing package.  
  
"Well, if he saw me hit you, I doubt it...but who knows? He was pretty dense." Angela shrugged. "But I should buy you a drink if for no other reason than to repay you for your chivalry, and for not hitting back." For the first time that night, Angela wasn't regretting going out, even though it meant she was hit on by a sleazy stranger and then subsequently that she hit a rather nice looking guy with an accent that she found fascinating at least.  
  
"As long as you promise not to slap me again. My pride won't take it twice in one night."  
  
"Promise not to grab my ass?" Angela asked, off the cuff, before realizing how abrupt (and almost rude) she had sounded.  
  
"Promise not to grab mine?"  
  
Breaking out into a fit of laughter, Angela led him back to her table. Surely her mother would have something to say about her find, but it wasn't that kind of find, as much as it as repaying a favour.  
  
5***  
  
"You used to play baseball?" Angela was on her third daiquiri when Tony was starting to tell her about his last job. It did sound rather remarkable, she thought, but he was athletic and nothing he had done so far that evening was enough to make her doubt his truthfulness.  
  
"I played second base for the Cards. Had a lot of fun with it too."  
  
"Why aren't you playing anymore then?"  
  
"I thought I could play the game and I knew all the odds, but what I didn't realize was that I'd take a chance tryin' to slide into third to maybe take a homer and mess up my shoulder. I don't have what it takes to play anymore. Which is good and bad. My daughter needs me around, so I couldn't be on a bus goin' from city to city ev'ry night." There was a twinge of regret in his voice as Tony thought about how much his life had changed. It wasn't that long ago that he had been playing ball and enjoying the fame of the major leagues.  
  
"Where is your wife now?" Sipping her drink, Angela made a mental note: all the good ones were gay or married.  
  
"She died almost 20 months ago," Tony confided, wishing that so much of his time with Marie wasn't spent apart. All the years he'd been in practices and on the road or being recruited were years spent without her beside him.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Angela said, thinking she had really stepped in it this time. She amended her previous thought: all the good ones were gay, married, or widowed.  
  
"It's hard, ya know, to get your life back together when it takes such a huge turn. It's like one day we went from havin' a plan and a direction for our lives to readin' about treatments and the ways to make her live longer. It really makes you wonder."  
  
"You have just one daughter?"  
  
"Yeah, Sam. She's the spittin' image of her mother." Tony laughed. "But she learned to play ball from me. How 'bout you?"  
  
Angela smiled softly. "I have a son, Jonathon."  
  
"Kids are great, aren't they?"  
  
Angela nodded, thinking about how great of a parent Tony must be. She hardly knew him, but his love for his daughter shone through brightly even in the most basic of conversation, and he was so down to earth.  
  
"Then they grow up and you get a daughter like Angela," Mona said, thrusting herself into the conversation in typical fashion.  
  
"And you realize that your mother is as much a child as you ever were," Angela adds. "Tony, this is my mother, Mona Robinson."  
  
"Shuuush! Someone might hear you," Mona whispered quickly. "Nice to meet you Tony."  
  
"Nice to meet you too," he said, offering his hand. He never would have pegged the vivacious red head to be Angela's mother. They were two polar- opposites. Mona was the curvy vibrant social diva, and Angela was the quite but attractive executive. In this case, the apple seemed to fall pretty far from the genetic tree.  
  
"So, what happened to Greg...Or Craig, or whatever his name was?"  
  
"He was...too friendly," Angela replied, not feeling the topic merited more conversation.  
  
"Oh, friendly. What was he thinking? After all at this type of place, if you like a woman, it is best you're really mean and crude." Her voice dripping with sarcasm, Mona as much as expected Angela to find some flaw with him. Whether or not it was legitimate, her daughter had pegged something and she knew that was the end of good ol' Craig.  
  
"He really was a dirt bag," Tony added in support of Angela. It seemed only right to defend her on this point, seeing as he had thought there was something more wrong when he had tried to intervene.  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"He was a loser. Definitely." Tony looked over at Angela, and when there were no signs of her being mad at him for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong, he took that as his motivation to continue. "If she wasn't ready to belt him, I wouldda."  
  
"Angela? You hit a man?" Looking at her daughter incredulously, Angela wondered if perhaps she had missed something about her daughter in the thirty-two year long psychological analysis.  
  
"Yeah. Too bad it was the wrong one." Sipping at her drink, Angela watched the swirl of strawberry coloured liquid as it made its way to her straw.  
  
"The wrong one?" Intrigued by her daughter's lack of an answer, Mona sat a little more upright in her chair, hoping to get a good story out of them.  
  
"I saw that things weren't going so well and I was gonna interrupt but then when I did, she hauled off and hit me accidentally. She was aimin' for him."  
  
"Wow, Angela, I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
"Well, it's all a matter of the right motivation."  
  
"And she packs quite the punch too," Tony pointed out, rubbing his face teasingly.  
  
"I hit you on the other side," she reminded him, smiling.  
  
"Well, I don't wanna touch the sore part; it'll only hurt more," he covered lamely.  
  
Mona watched the exchange between her daughter and the handsome stranger with great interest. The banter was very easy and fluid—there was no evidence that these two had met that night.  
  
"Not getting my sympathy," Angela laughed. "I bought you a beer; what more could you want?"  
  
"Now, Angela, you'd think you'd know better than to ask something like that. You've been married before. He's a man dear; I could list at least twenty things he'd like, and about 100 ways to execute each one of them." Mona smirked, watching her daughter blush to a lovely crimson and watching Tony's expression drop. No matter how 'city' he was, and no matter how refined she was, neither one knew how to read her. "So, who wants another round of drinks," she asked, putting her hand up to get the server's attention.  
  
6***  
  
"I really appreciate you walking us to the train station," Angela said, walking two steps behind her mother, Tony beside her. It all seemed very natural, if a bit surreal.  
  
They closed down the bar, passing up an opportunity to visit the after hours club that was set to open next. Four am in the morning was pretty late, and in all honesty, Angela had never stayed out that late. Correction: Angela never stayed out that late unless she had fallen asleep at the office. Walking the streets of New York at that time of the morning seemed just as normal as if it were noon, or five pm. There were still people everywhere.  
  
"No problem. I think my ride back to Brooklyn got sidetracked anyway. I don't mind though, 'cause it saves me listening to him tell me that he told me so."  
  
"Told you what," she asked, feeling more than a little light on her feet.  
  
"Told me that I'd have a good time if I went out tonight. It was his idea. I'm still not all that comfortable goin' out and meetin' new people," Tony confided.  
  
"Oh. Well, I'm glad you had a good time."  
  
"How 'bout you," Tony questioned, feeling like this somehow had turned into a junior high school date.  
  
"I did too...I had a good time, I mean," Angela felt almost giddy, her heart beating fast at the thought of the evening. She had spent hours talking to a strange man about anything and everything in her life, but she didn't feel like he was that much of a stranger. In fact, if anything it seemed like he had known her forever. "Mother dragged me out, but I'm glad I came."  
  
Mona felt like turning around and sticking her finger down her throat, making gagging noises. If these two were any 'cuter' together, she would have thrown up. Instead, though, Mona kept up the pace and decided to just appreciate the fact that her daughter did have a good time after all. It was a small miracle that Angela had so much as talked to anyone let alone made a new 'friend' even if things did seem painfully platonic.  
  
Neither one knew how to approach the subject of spending time together again. It had been a nice evening of talking, and the rapport they had built was something like a friendship more than what they would have expected of a romantic relationship.  
  
"So, when you two kids going to meet up next," Mona asked, sensing the predicament they were facing. She was relatively certain that if she were to leave it to them, they would never meet again because neither one would have the courage to make the plans.  
  
Both Tony and Angela felt a wave of relief wash over them. Thank God for Mona.  
  
"You ever goin' to Brooklyn?"  
  
"You ever come to Connecticut?"  
  
"Okay, so we've established you live in different places, and you each get a gold star for that. But what about coming into the city for an adventure? Come on, Angela, you're always saying you don't do enough touristy stuff anymore." It was ridiculous, she thought, that two grown adults could be having this much difficulty making arrangements to see each other again when they very obviously were interested in the prospect.  
  
"Well, we could always come back and do some dancin' Friday. See if good ol' Craig is still around and maybe you could get a right hook in?" Tony laughed at the strange roots of their relationship. Scratch that, it was hardly a relationship, Tony thought, it was more like...a meeting.  
  
"Friday?" Her voice sounded strangled and small and any words she had planned on sharing seemed too distant to be able to communicate. All Angela could think about was that Friday night was one night short of International Date Night: Saturday. If two people go out on a Friday night to dance, does it classify as a date, and if so, how does one distinguish it from that and more towards just a meeting of two friends?  
  
"Don't sound so panicked dear, I promise, Friday nights are no different than any other night, and it's not like you're going out on a Saturday." Mona knew her daughter too well, evidently. It was almost as if Angela was a cartoon character with a bubble above her head and dialogue spilling out in capitals and perfect script.  
  
"I'll be gentleman, I promise," Tony added. "I know that you got one hell of a right hook, and there's no way I want to be introduced to it again."  
  
Angela laughed. "Okay," she said, mustering all of her courage. "Friday night, dancing. Why don't I give you my business card and you can give me a call to confirm?"  
  
"Eh oh, a woman with her own business card and a mean right. You sure you ain't an angel?" Tony laughed, winking at Mona who immediately turned to watch the flush creep across her daughter's face. If anything, she thought, Tony would be great for keeping Angela's blood pressure in check.  
  
"Thanks again for walking us to the station. We really appreciate it." Mona walked ahead. "Catch up with me just inside the gate," she called back.  
  
Nodding her head in the general direction of her mother, Angela turned back to face Tony. "Yes, thank you again for walking us," Angela said sincerely. "It's always nice to meet someone new who doesn't mind being hit from time to time." Her laugh seemed smaller than she was, but still very sweet.  
  
"Well thanks for not hitting me again, or harder."  
  
"Alright, well, then, uh, I'll speak to you through the week and maybe we'll work something out. If you want you can always swing by the agency on Friday and we could go from there?"  
  
"Sounds great. I'll figure it out and call ya." Smiling, Tony wasn't sure how to say good bye to her. Normally, he'd hug someone because that was the Italian thing to do, but he wasn't sure she'd react well to it. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe he could shake her hand, but that seemed rather impersonal, even though their overall knowledge of mutual existence was all of several hours.  
  
"Take care," Angela said sincerely, before making what she considered to be a bold move. She moved in and gently kissed him on the cheek, trying to keep the gesture as ambiguous as possible. He could read what he wanted into it, but the truth of the matter was that she had wanted at least that.  
  
Tony thought his heart stopped. For a moment he was convinced that the jolt of lighting he felt was a heart attack because he couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything for at least thirty seconds as he watched her move closer to him, and his eyes found her lips approaching him. When they made contact with his skin, he let his one hand seek out her arm and gently sweep over it, before he returned to his state of shock.  
  
"I'll talk to you soon, then," Angela said, almost asking him if they would indeed be seeing each other again.  
  
"I'll call you by Thursday," he assured her.  
  
"Great." Smiling, she turned and followed after her mother, hopeful that she hadn't been watching, otherwise the teasing might never end.  
  
7***  
  
"Hey, Tony, I heard you didn't pick Sam up from Mrs. R's last night," Philly commented slyly, following Tony through the halls of the building down to the van.  
  
"How does stuff get 'round so fast here? It's not even eight in the mornin' and everyone already knows ev'rythin'. Madonna mia, this neighborhood's too small." Pushing open the door with his elbows, Tony turned to look at the shorter man, hoping for an explanation.  
  
"Mrs. R. has a big mouth?"  
  
Tony shot Philly a death glare.  
  
"Gia went up for breakfast this mornin' and Mrs. R was makin' food for the Bonnifetti's son and Sam, and Gia asked where you were, and then Mrs. R said you went out last night and didn't pick 'er up."  
  
"So how do you know?"  
  
"'Cause Gia called my place to talk to Ma and Ma told me that I shouldn't have kept you out so late."  
  
"Did you tell her I didn't stay out with you?"  
  
"No—you're the perfect excuse man."  
  
"Good to hear," Tony said, noting one of the biggest downfalls of a close- knit community.  
  
"So, why didn't ya pick up Sam?"  
  
"I got in late, and I didn't wanna wake her," Tony pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but why'd you get in so late...I left you on your own around 9 and you still didn't get home 'til this mornin'?"  
  
"I had a good time, that's all, Philly. It was fun. It was a nice place." Tony hoped that his friend wouldn't keep pressing the subject. He really didn't want to discuss the night before, even if it had been good. It had been great, but it was also very confusing.  
  
"And what was her name? Or did you get it?" Playfully punching at his friend's shoulder, Philly did some of his best 'boxing' moves.  
  
"Eh oh, oh eh, I did not do anything last night, 'kay? I had a coupla drinks with a woman and her mother, walked them to the train station and came home. We lost track of time but I didn't do nothin' that you need to know 'bout!"  
  
"A woman and her mother, huh? Then why're ya all smiles today?"  
  
"'Cause I thought this week was goin' well but you're fast makin' it a pain in the butt, so back off, will ya?" Tony unlocked the door to the van and climbed in.  
  
"Yeah, okay. But I still think there's somethin' you ain't tellin' me 'cause I've not seen you smile in a long time, man, and today you're pretty damn happy."  
  
"Was. I was happy," Tony said, turning the key in the ignition.  
  
"Well call 'er then and fix it. I miss happy Tony—he's a good guy, and lots of fun."  
  
"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," Tony said, watching as he pulled out into traffic and away from his overly interested friend.  
  
Calling Angela didn't seem like such a bad idea, but then he wondered if it was too presumptuous. After all, she had her own business card and he was about to go to work: as a delivery guy. They seemed like an extreme case of 'opposites attract', minus the outward attraction.  
  
8***  
  
Getting out of the van, Tony pulled the bag of stuff from behind him. This building always seemed to have the strangest deliveries from all over the place, and somehow they always justified sending soup by FedEx, or cases of soda.  
  
When Tony entered the building, the secretary Louise directed him to whichever floor he had to go to today, noting the order number and the source. It was a funny system they had here, but with the number of deliveries he expected them to get it also seemed justified.  
  
"Today you're going to the 11th floor, office 1114B," Louise provided before checking out Tony a little better. "You know, Tony, you really make that getup look good," she said confidently.  
  
It was the eighties, Tony thought. This is what the eighties will be remembered for. Strong, confident women in the workplace, acting a little bit like men...  
  
"Well, I try," he smiled back, wondering what Angela would be doing if she were there instead of Louise. After all, no matter how refined or classy you are the empowerment of the work world could cause you to say things you wouldn't normally say.  
  
"1114B, and then maybe if you want to go for drinks later..." Louise's train of thought was interrupted when a familiar voice boomed through the foyer.  
  
"Tony?"  
  
Spinning on his heal, Tony realized why that voice sounded so familiar. "Angela?"  
  
There she was in all of her power-suited glory, looking fantastic in a deep burgundy jacket and slacks, with a white silk-looking blouse. She looked tired, but probably only because she had been out until the wee small hours of the morning. With him, even.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She hadn't meant to sound so shocked, but she was and there was no way to hide it. In deed, she was surprised. Pleased as well, she thought, but the pleasant familiarity of seeing him in her office-building's foyer was still too much to think about.  
  
"I'm making a delivery. Why are you here?"  
  
"I work here. I'm Vice-President of this agency," she pointed out, seeming a little awkward in saying that—especially to the FedEx delivery guy.  
  
A few people had taken to staring at them as their conversation had reached across the lobby, but as they walked closer together, some people continued on their way, while others examined the pair more closely.  
  
"Wow, la dee dah," Tony said teasingly. "Had I known you were Vice- President I woulda asked for more than one beer as repayment," he joked.  
  
"Well, we're going out on Friday. I'm sure I could buy you another one." Her forthrightness was somewhat surprising to her. Angela wasn't the kind of woman to make those kinds of statements. Instead, she would normally be the one blushing and ducking out of the situation.  
  
"I might take you up on that." Absorbing the fact that fate had once again seen it fit to 'bring them together' Tony eyed the power-suit she was wearing and realized that she could very easily be addictive.  
  
"So, where you heading?" Angela felt herself blush at the way he had looked at her. It certainly wasn't what she had been expecting; running into him at work the morning after they met at a dance bar?  
  
"Eleventh floor," he said, double checking what he had scribbled down on his delivery form. The sudden distraction of being around Angela was enough to make him forget where he was supposed to go.  
  
"Great, we'll take the elevator up together."  
  
"Great," he said, surprised that she wasn't more fazed by the fact he was the delivery man.  
  
As they walked towards the lift, Angela secretly felt a little more bounce in her step. She had been tired that morning when she crawled out of bed after only two and a half hours of sleep, but seeing Tony was rejuvenating. He reminded her of why she had stayed out, and how much fun it was to be alive.  
  
"So, how are you feeling today," Tony asked, pressing the button for the elevator.  
  
"I was tired when I woke up, but now I'm better," she replied truthfully.  
  
"So it was worth staying out that late? No regrets?" He half expected her to comment that there were some regrets; like, say, agreeing to go out with a delivery guy on Friday night.  
  
"No regrets. None at all. Honestly. It was worth the lost sleep."  
  
Tony smiled. "I'm glad."  
  
As the doors opened, they stepped on to the elevator and secretly were thankful that there wasn't anyone else getting on with them. They could talk as openly as they wanted and not worry about anyone eavesdropping.  
  
"How 'bout you? Do you have any regrets?" There was a sudden wash of insecurity that swept over her.  
  
"None. Well, none 'cept that now my friend Philly keeps buggin' me to tell him details of last night." Tony grinned. "He'd die if I told him the truth."  
  
Angela looked at him confused; nothing had happened between them, unless after he dropped them off something did...But if it did, would he tell her that?  
  
"Philly doesn't know what it means to be friends with a woman. He thinks conversation between a man and a woman is strictly getting in to bed and decidin' whether it's lights on or off..."  
  
Angela laughed. "Doesn't get have a steady girlfriend eh?" When Tony nodded, Angela smiled. "I can see why."  
  
If I told him that all we did was talk and have a few drinks together his faith in his fellow man would be rocked beyond repair. He wouldn't be able to cope with it, I don't think. It's sad, but it's the truth."  
  
Angela shook her head. "So how did you come out of Brooklyn so normal?"  
  
He cocked his head to the side, not sure what she meant, but noticing that they only had three floors left. A sadness crept over him as he realized yet again he'd have to say good bye to her—that would make it twice in less than twelve hours.  
  
"Why do you think women and men can be friends, when Philly obviously doesn't?"  
  
Tony thought about it for a moment. Truth was, he wasn't sure that women and men could be friends, but if the alternative was not having her around, Tony felt fairly certain he was willing to find out if it could work.  
  
"I think Marie taught me a lot. And Mrs. Rossini taught me a bit. And everything else is just learnin' as I go. I just hope I don't screw up," he said sadly.  
  
"I'll hit you if you do," Angela offered as a solution.  
  
"Oh, I know you will," he replied.  
  
"Our floor," she told him as the doors slid open.  
  
"Which way to 1114B?" Hoisting up the parcels into better view, Tony scanned the floor. It really was a classy building with tall potted plants all over the place and marble pillars. It seemed much too fancy of a place to be, let alone to be talking to someone.  
  
"That's my office," Angela said, a confused look on her face.  
  
"Oh. Well, then...This stuff's for you." Tony motioned as if to pass it to her and then thought twice. At least he could walk it to her office. "On second thought, it is kind of heavy. I'll take it for you."  
  
"Wow, fate's certainly giving us a message, isn't it?"  
  
He looked at her in a state of confusion which was becoming all too familiar to him since he started talking to her the night before.  
  
"Well, if I hadn't met you last night, I'd meet you today. And since we met last night, now we can talk today." She felt silly drawing those conclusions from what little evidence she had, but it did seem a little unusual that the same man she spent hours talking with in a club the night before was now walking her back to her office on completely separate basis. "I'm not a huge 'fate' kind of person, but it does seem ironic."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," he said, smiling. "So, for Friday, do you want to go back to Swing 46 or do you want to do something else? There are about a dozen different bars I've been to on the strip, or we could go down to Brooklyn if you want an all guided tour of the neighborhood."  
  
"I'm glad you said guided and not guarded."  
  
"Well, that too, but I generally don't say stuff like that until you've been once or twice without nothin' happenin'." Waiting for her to catch on to the sarcastic tone of his voice, Tony realized that she wasn't the type of woman who was aware of all the finer points of life outside of Connecticut, and she probably didn't take a joke as well as his Brooklyn friends.  
  
"Thanks." Stopping outside a door, she pulled out keys. "We're here," Angela said, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious office.  
  
"Oh la la," Tony said in awe, trying to absorb all of the room. "This is bigger than my apartment."  
  
Angela laughed, but then realized he might actually be serious. "Well, I am, uh, the Vice President, so they like to give me a nicer office."  
  
"Yeah, if this ain't nice I don't know what is."  
  
Motioning him in, Angela laughed at his awkwardness. "You can come in, and if you want you can even put the stuff down."  
  
Shaking his head in acknowledgement, he found a spot beside the desk where he felt the stuff could easily be retrieved and placed them down. "Seriously, Angela, this is a nice office."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He felt like there was suddenly nothing left to say. He'd dropped off the parcels he was delivering and she was safely in her office so there wasn't any need for him to stick around.  
  
"So, should I call you Thursday to make plans? Let you think on what you want to do?"  
  
"Sure." There it was; that awkwardness had returned, with a vengeance. "Sounds good."  
  
"Alright. I'll call you, then." Looking anywhere but at her, he wondered if there might be the potential for another kiss or if that was just a byproduct of the lingering alcohol she had consumed the night before.  
  
"Great. I gave you the house number too, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got both. You have mine, in case somethin' comes up?"  
  
"Yes. It's in my day planner and with my secretary."  
  
"Oh, good," Tony said, realizing he was talking to a woman with a secretary. Was he just too old fashioned or was it the culture shock that made them seem like polar opposites?  
  
"I'll talk to you on Thursday then."  
  
"Yeah, tomorrow." There he was, a grown man in his thirties and he felt like he had officially regressed to teenage one-syllable words and utterances. That's what she did to him, he thought. Angela made the coherent Tony disappear.  
  
Offering a small wave, she wondered why she was so much like the little kid she used to hate being. He had reduced her to short sentences with as little meaning as possible, and all because she was afraid she might say something inappropriate.  
  
"Bye."  
  
"Bye," he said, walking out the door and trying to figure out which way the elevator was. Too much work, he thought, all this 'being friends with a woman'. He was never at a loss of things to say to Philly or Tiny. But Angela...Right now he was feeling a little stumped.  
  
9***  
  
"Bower Residence, this is Nancy speaking." The voice had a faint British accent, but more than that it sounded almost cackle-like.  
  
"Uh, hey Nanc, I was hopin' to talk to Angela?" Tony wondered what it would be like to be poor Nancy, always having to answer the phone for someone else, and always having to be at work. He knew from what Angela had told him that Nancy was an older British woman who had never been married. Instead she had held a series of housekeeping jobs and lived in the house where she was employed. Tony almost wanted to tell her that she should try to find a different field; one in which she didn't have to live with her boss.  
  
"May I tell her who is calling?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, this is Tony," he said, wondering if there was proper phone etiquette when speaking to a maid.  
  
"I'll go get her, one moment please."  
  
Tony fought back the laugh he felt building. It undoubtedly would not be polite to laugh at her. No matter who she was, she was still a human being.  
  
"Angela speaking."  
  
"Hey, Angela, it's Tony."  
  
"Oh, hey. I was starting to wonder if you'd call."  
  
"Oh yeah? Why would you wonder?"  
  
"Because it's ten o'clock on Thursday night and we were planning on going out tomorrow night. I thought you would have called earlier." She had been getting nervous at the prospect that he might not call, and in her mind had been debating calling him. She did have his number, and if he gave it to her, she rationalized, he probably intended for her to use it.  
  
"Yeah, sorry. I got suckered into doin' an extra shift. Double time and a half was too tempting to pass up, so I just got home 'bout twenty minutes ago. I had to pick up Sam and get her back into bed...so here I am." Tony hoped he hadn't missed his opportunity. A woman like Angela surely had plans for her Friday nights.  
  
"What time did you start work today?"  
  
"Just after 7:30."  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"This mornin'," he clarified.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, it ain't cheap livin' in a one bedroom palace in Brooklyn, ya know, and Sam's gettin' older. She wants more things. And she's such a good kid she deserves more things." Tony settled into a spot on the couch, and toyed with a pillow Mrs. R had crocheted for him.  
  
"But still...That's a really long day for you. Are you sure you'll be up to going out tomorrow night?"  
  
"Yes," Tony said too quickly. "I mean, if you are."  
  
"Sure. Of course I am. I just thought maybe you'd be too tired."  
  
Tony thought about it for a moment, but only fleetingly. She definitely was much too kind and considerate, if that was at all possible.  
  
"It'll be nice. I deserve to go out after two of those days this week. And 'sides, we had plans, so I wouldn't wanna miss 'em." Tony had been working his way through things they could do, and still hadn't decided. "But it's lady's choice. What do you want to do tomorrow?"  
  
Angela thought about it for a minute and then decided her 'idea' might not have been such a bad one. "Well, we could go dancing, and this time we'd actually dance," she suggested. "Or we could take advantage of the free stuff people give me and dig through all the free tickets we get and see what we come up with?"  
  
"People give ya free stuff?"  
  
"If we're advertising for them, yes, like samples. But sometimes we get free things because people just want us to show up."  
  
"Man, I should be in advertising," Tony said offhandedly.  
  
Angela laughed. "So, any preference as to what we do?"  
  
"Well Mona said you wanted to do touristy stuff, so we could do the Met, or wander around Time Square... How well do you skate?" Tony had been working his way through his thought process, trying to keep everything organized and coherent because as evidenced in the past, he wasn't all that good at it.  
  
"I haven't in years. It's been a really long time."  
  
"Do you have skates?"  
  
"Um, yes," Angela said, trying to figure out where exactly she had them last. She couldn't remember going skating since Jonathon was born, which didn't bode well for her abilities.  
  
"Bring 'em tomorrow, and I'll meet you at the agency. We'll do dinner and skating. Sound okay?"  
  
Angela smiled at the realization that things were finalized, and they were going out again in less than twenty-four hours. But it's not a date, she reminded herself. "Sounds great. So you'll meet me at five?"  
  
"Yep." Tony made a mental note to wear something nicer. Maybe his cords again, and a nice button down. It definitely wasn't a denim occasion.  
  
"Great."  
  
"Alright, so I'll see you tomorrow," he said, again questioning how people are friends with people of the opposite gender. If she were a man he could make some funny comment about sleeping and all would be well. Instead there was the awkwardness of trying to think of something intelligent and responsible to say.  
  
"Well, you should get some rest if we're going out tomorrow, and I'll see you then. Sleep well," Angela said, realizing it sounded more 'nosey' than she had intended.  
  
"You too. Night."  
  
"Night." Hanging up the phone, Angela hoped she wouldn't make a complete fool of herself on the rink tomorrow.  
  
"Nancy," she called. "Would you please find my skates? Also, I'm going to be late home tomorrow night."  
  
As always the heavier-set British woman appeared within seconds, as if at her beck and call. "Your skates?"  
  
"My ice skates. I think they're probably in the attic."  
  
"Alright. Anything else?"  
  
"No, thank you," Angela smiled, thinking about how much fun it would be to go out twice in one week.  
  
Now all she had left to do was to decide what to wear...  
  
10***  
  
"When you said to bring my skates, I didn't think you meant we'd use them," Angela said jokingly.  
  
"You can't get out of it that easy," Tony said teasingly, as he stood up on his skates and offered her his hand. "Let's hit it." The ambition in his voice was greater than it probably should have been but then again it was going to be really fun.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of—hitting it." Angela took his hand and tried to stand, falling against him. "I've not skated since before my son was born, so please forgive me if I spend most of tonight on the ice."  
  
Tony helped prop her up, and then smiled softly. "I won't let you fall too many times. Promise. It's all about gettin' used to it again, that's all. You can do it." Leading her on to the ice, he watched as she did her best not to fall over.  
  
"You keep telling yourself that and maybe I'll make it," she mumbled.  
  
"You will."  
  
"Central park at night is one of New York's finest attractions," he said, his voice very monotone.  
  
"You read the flyer on it?"  
  
"Worse yet: there's a sign behind you 'bout fifty feet." Tony smiled. "But you stopped thinkin' about fallin' over."  
  
"Too bad you had to mention it again. Did you ever wonder if gravity was just a cruel and spiteful thing?" Her lips curled up in an optimistic expression undermining her otherwise less cheerful comment.  
  
"It's a thing. It doesn't have emotions, so no, it's not spiteful, and you're just worried that you're gonna look silly," Tony provided knowingly.  
  
It was true, she thought, that really she was only concerned about making a fool of herself in front of her non-date. This was only their third time spending the evening together, and already she was worried that he might realize how uncoordinated she was.  
  
"You don't look silly," Tony assured her. "Very cute? Yes. Silly? No." Only after the fact did he realize that he had called her cute. She was; that wasn't the question. But actually verbalizing the fact that he had not only noticed how she looked but thought of it in a positive way...that seemed like overstepping.  
  
"Cute, huh?" Grinning at him, Angela gave him a look that dared him to elaborate.  
  
"Yeah," he said nervously. "You do matching earmuffs and coats a great service," he assured her, biting back his nervousness. "And you look really great in that colour."  
  
She blushed at his compliments. "Well, you look pretty good yourself."  
  
After a few minutes they had worked their way into the traffic flow of the other skaters. There were a lot of people out, all things considered, and more than at least half of them seemed to be on dates. Men and boys were holding up women and girls for as far as the eye could see, and Tony imagined that most of those women and girls had no particular problems holding themselves upright on their own.  
  
"I think I can do it now," Angela said, although secretly she wished he'd continue to hold her up. The arm that he had wrapped around her waist made her feel safe and warm, and his other hand was holding hers, stretched across her stomach and keeping her from falling forward.  
  
"You sure?" He didn't want to let go of her, but if she said she was fine, he'd have no choice. For a non-date, he was realizing that his compulsion to hold her was much too great. Eventually that would have to be fixed—he'd have to beat it in to his thick Italian head that he couldn't think of her like that. Angela was merely someone he was trying to get to know better as a friend. Still, it seemed an awful lot like women and men couldn't be friends without things coming between them.  
  
"Can I ever be sure?"  
  
"Well, do you want me to just hold your hand until you're surer?"  
  
"Is surer a word?"  
  
"Sure?" Tony grinned at her.  
  
"Maybe," Angela replied, evaluating how embarrassing it would be if she fell flat on her face and broke something.  
  
"Maybe to it being a word or maybe to holding your hand?"  
  
"To both," she said pensively.  
  
Removing the arm that had been wrapped around her, Tony quickly slipped his hand in hers and settled into the slower paced skating motions.  
  
"You're doin' good," he told her, watching the look of determination on her face. He couldn't think of anything that would be able to hold her down. Once she set her mind to something, Tony thought, Angela would do it until she did it perfectly. And inevitably, he was certain, she'd get it.  
  
She squeezed his hand, as if talking would distract her too much from the pure concentration she had been giving to the task at hand.  
  
As they made their first complete lap around the rink, Tony grinned. "You made it, Mrs. Bower. You skated the rink effortlessly."  
  
"Effortlessly? How much did you have to drink with dinner?"  
  
"Eh oh, oh eh, I'm perfectly with it. I'll have you know that I'm well under my limit of beer." Winking at her mischievously, Tony couldn't help himself. "Unless of course you plan on takin' advantage of me."  
  
"Oh, you're safe," she said, chewing on her lip. Watching his fallen expression which followed instantly on the heels of her comment, Angela clarified. "I don't think I'd be able to do much on these blades of death," she explained. "If you couldn't get away from me while I was on these, I'd feel really bad for you."  
  
Tony was inclined to say something he'd probably regret, which shocked him. He wanted to ask her what she would think if he didn't want to get away from her. But then thinking better of it, Tony realized it was probably in both of their best interests to just not say anything.  
  
After two more laps around and a disconcerting silence, Angela felt the need to do something that would break the proverbial ice between them. After her last comment minutes ago, there had been this near insurmountable wall between them, and as much as she wasn't ready to profess her undying love for him, she hardly wanted to alienate someone who was proving that they were a very good friend.  
  
Angela braced herself. She knew that if she did what she intended to do, she'd have to do it with style and grace, or at least as much grace as the act would allow. And she couldn't very well do it on purpose on purpose. She needed to just stop concentrating long enough to have the desired results.  
  
At first it didn't happen, which was a double edged sword. She was happy that she did indeed remember how to skate at least well enough not to fall, but by not falling she was losing out on conversation.  
  
Angela realized that if he could hear her interior monologue, they would be in serious trouble.  
  
A few more minutes and a few attempts at masterminding a fall, Angela remembered what she was always horrible at; she never did know how to stop very well. Smiling, Angela looked at Tony (who was concentrating on not saying something, she thought) and then chose her target snow bank.  
  
"Would you like a hot chocolate? My treat..." Angela chose the perfect fluffy white snow bank that was not only clear of skaters liable to trip over her once she took her tumble, but also it looked very soft and enjoyable. How could she want anything else?  
  
"Sure. As long as you let me buy a treat after we're finished here," he said, eyeing the vendor.  
  
"Deal."  
  
Making their way towards the little man with his mobile booth, Angela braced herself. It would all be worth it. Any bruises obtained would be just enough to evoke some conversation, and maybe distract them from the fact neither one really understood their relationship.  
  
Raising her heel to bring the picks of the skate against the ice, Angela closed her eyes and hoped that she'd maintain some dignity. Feeling her body continue in the forward direction with a lopsided angle, Angela tried to keep her body as tension-free as possible, preparing for hitting the surface of the rink, or the snow bank, should she have planned it well enough.  
  
But she didn't hit the ground. She felt two arms wrap around her and pull her towards a body tightly. Tony had kept her from falling, and in the process he had hugged her to him snuggly and kept his promise.  
  
Opening her eyes she realized that she was face to face with him, their bodies tightly tucked together. She was staring into his big eyes and now holding on to his shoulders.  
  
"You didn't let me fall," she said in surprise.  
  
"I told you I wouldn't let you."  
  
Angela sucked back a breath and realized that the proximity of their bodies combined with the feeling of his arms around her made her want to kiss him. Thoroughly.  
  
"Thank you," she nearly whispered, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't used to feeling this way about friends.  
  
"You're welcome. I'd never let you get hurt if I could stop it," Tony told her.  
  
And for some reason that sealed the deal.  
  
Angela leaned in closer and pressed her lips against his.  
  
Tony nearly choked on the proximity of her body to his, wondering if she knew how uncomfortable he was with her being so close but when her soft lips touched his, he was sent reeling.  
  
Her hands slid around his neck to the edge of his hair and her fingers gently massaged the skin there, the velvet of her gloves feeling rich against his skin. Angela had never planned on kissing him with such fervor, let alone at the edge of an ice rink, but at that moment, coherent thought had disappeared and it was just the two of them standing their, wrapped up in each other and holding each other.  
  
11***  
  
As Tony and Angela made their way towards a series of small cafés, there was once again relative silence. They hadn't really discussed what had happened at the edge of the rink, nor had they discussed what they wanted from one another. Truthfully, neither knew for certain what it was they did want. It had all started out with being just friends. The only thing they did know was that despite being off the ice and back on solid (slip- free) ground, they were still holding hands.  
  
"You know," Angela said, "There's this really great pastry shop down here...just about another two blocks up. They make the most amazing treats."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Uh huh. They make this chocolate cream cheese devil's food cake...it's like every diet sin ever, but so delicious." Smiling, Angela thought for a moment before she continued. "We've done enough exercise so far to work off a piece if we shared it, right?"  
  
"We've done enough exercise to work off two pieces if we shared them," Tony replied, grinning.  
  
"And two pieces shared would be...one piece each?"  
  
"Two pieces shared would be more fun than one piece each," he clarified.  
  
"Ah, well, it's a Friday night. We have to maximize the fun factor," she said plainly.  
  
It was ideal. They had cute small talk and plenty of it. They had a great chemistry, they had both realized, resulting in great kissing. And more importantly it was fun to be together. If this was what it was like to be a friend to a woman, Tony wanted more of it. But only if that woman was Angela.  
  
"True. Friday nights are important. Too important to waste on lost fun."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
As Angela led him towards the bakery, she thought about the evening which had been remarkable in every way she could have wanted. They had eaten at a nice restaurant, went skating in the park, and shared a wonderful steamy kiss (complete with a few intimate caresses that were more than just stimulating). Now they were about to get her favourite type of cake and spend the rest of the night talking about their lives. It seemed like heaven as far as friendships went.  
  
When Tony ordered their slice of cake, a glass of milk and then turned to Angela, she swore she saw the little boy in him come out for a visit. It was adorable. "What would you like to drink?"  
  
"Milk sounds great," she said, smiling at him. He was definitely a man, there was no doubt in her mind, and his body was athletic and toned, but he was still as sensitive as a child, and the size of his eyes when he saw the cake was evidence.  
  
"Two milks," Tony said, pulling out his wallet and handing a crisp bill to the kid behind the counter.  
  
As they chose their table, Angela eyed a seat nearer the back, closer to the corner, where they'd have more privacy and made a beeline for it. "Just because, ya know, it's nicer back there," she said sweetly.  
  
Tony followed and carefully set things down, taking his seat across from her.  
  
"So, if Fridays are so important, what have you spent your last few Fridays doing?" Angela looked at Tony curiously, wondering how a guy like him didn't have an entourage of twenty women following his every move.  
  
"I've spent it with my favourite girl," Tony said. "Sam and I've played a lot of dominos lately. It keeps us distracted. When we're home alone we talk about her mom lots, and it makes us both sad, so lately we just play doms, or cards. Or go out and shoot some hoops."  
  
"That sounds nice. Does Sam miss you not being home tonight?"  
  
"I think she's thankful. Havin' your dad around on a Friday night can really cramp your style, you know?" Tony laughed. "She's eleven goin' on twenty-one. I swear, some day that girl is gonna give me a heart attack." Laughing it off, Tony decided to turn the tables. "How do you spend your ever important Friday nights?"  
  
"Working. Or watching TV with Jonathon. Unless he has a scouts thing to do. Or something at the conservatory. He likes animals; the furrier the better, I think." Shrugging it off, Angela tried to choke back what she really wanted to say, which was that she and her son unfortunately weren't that close.  
  
"Boys are harder to read than girls, sometimes. Especially if you've never been a little boy before," Tony said sympathetically.  
  
"The same is true for girls, I'm sure." Angela  
  
"I guess."  
  
Tony watched the way she carefully chose her piece of cake, and the slow way the fork made its way to her mouth. He wasn't sure if she was trying to be seductive or if she was just naturally that remarkable when she ate. Either way, he was hooked. He could watch her for hours and probably never get tired of the way it looked. She was extraordinary. Stunning.  
  
"You're not eating much cake," she observed. "Do you not like it? We could get something else."  
  
Tony swallowed, hard, wondering if his staring had been too obvious. "I uh, I was just thinkin', and I guess I got sidetracked."  
  
Tilting her head to one side, she examined his expression. "Good thoughts or bad?"  
  
"Good."  
  
"Care to share?"  
  
"Maybe." His grin made her feel a little more at ease. After all, with an expression like that on his face, he couldn't be thinking of negative things. There was no conceivable way.  
  
Her fork stopped midway to her mouth. "Let's hear it."  
  
"Well, I was just thinking how we're so different. But how much fun I'm havin' anyway."  
  
"We are pretty different, aren't we?" Angela placed her fork down on the plate and took a sip of her milk.  
  
"Yeah. So why do we get along so good?"  
  
Angela thought about it for a moment. "Well..."  
  
"Yeah...I couldn't figure it out either." Tony's hand reached across the table. "But I like spendin' time with you." Taking her hand in his, he watched for her reaction. She didn't pull away, and that was a source of great comfort for him.  
  
"Me too," Angela said sweetly.  
  
Taking a bite of the cake, Tony smiled and enjoyed that they could talk about everything without feeling overcome with guilt or nervousness.  
  
***  
  
"I had a really great time tonight," Angela said truthfully, wishing it wasn't over. Then again, it was already after one in the morning, and at this rate she wouldn't make it home for a while.  
  
"So did I," Tony agreed, holding out hope that he'd somehow come up with something brilliant to say before the night was officially over.  
  
"Think you might be interested in doing something again sometime?" Angela was never that forthright in the past, but she didn't want to let this one get away because she was playing shy. She'd never had a man try to be a friend first (and show almost no pressure as to their relationship moving beyond friends only). Maybe it was too many years of working in New York City, or maybe it was having had one really bad marriage. But either way, Angela was used to feeling a degree of threatened from most men. Tony wasn't like that. He was more vulnerable and sweet than anyone she had ever met. And somehow he still managed to be macho and strong.  
  
"Yeah, I'd love to," he said in his thick Brooklyn accent.  
  
"We could do lunch sometime next week," she offered, not sure that she would survive very long if they didn't have some form of committed plan.  
  
"It's hard to tell when I'm gonna get a lunch break. I could call you if something works out, but maybe we should stick with dinner?" Tony felt guilty having to say that. More than anything he'd like to jump at the opportunity to spend lunch hours with her, but FedEx was hardly the kind of job where he could just schedule a break and take it.  
  
"Sure. Dinners are good." Angela smiled, just thankful that he was going to call her again. "It's been a lot of fun," she added as she moved in for a goodbye kiss.  
  
Tony thought that he'd never get used to the feeling of her moving in to kiss him, and then the sensation of her lips on his. She was breathtaking and smelled like something indescribably fresh.  
  
"Yeah," he mumbled against her lips, not sure what he was agreeing to, but certain that there was something he wanted to say yes to. Leaning in for another kiss, Tony's hands slid around her waist and up her back, pulling her towards him and realizing how comfortable of a fit they were.  
  
"I'll call you early next week?"  
  
"Sounds good," she nodded, her head still spinning from the kisses.  
  
"Great."  
  
12***  
  
"So, how'd it go?" Mona's voice nearly attacked Angela as she walked through the door.  
  
"How'd what go?" Angela looked at her mother suspiciously, hopeful that whatever she wanted, it wouldn't be too stressful.  
  
"How'd your date with Tony-the-macho-Brooklyn-hottie go?" Mona wiggled in her seat on the couch, adjusting and hoping to better hear whatever her daughter would tell her.  
  
"Mother! It was not a date. It was just the two of us going out as friends."  
  
"But he seemed awful friendly."  
  
"He's a nice guy," Angela defended, hoping her indignant cry wasn't over compensating.  
  
"How nice?" Mona asked mischievously.  
  
Angela sighed, kicked off her shoes and then hung her coat up. "What are you still doing up?"  
  
"Waiting up for you..."  
  
Looking at her mother indignantly, Angela tried to hide her shock. "You've never waited up for me before."  
  
"I've never had any reason to. But now I do. My little girl went out with a fine specimen of man, and I need to know the details." Mona grinned at her daughter. "I always thought I was given the wrong baby at the hospital but you know, this just proves that you have some of my genes. He's cute."  
  
"Mother! We're just friends. We went out as friends, and did things the way friends would. We're not anything more than that." Angela relaxed into the sofa beside her mother and leaned back into the cushions.  
  
"Then why haven't you stopped smiling since you walked in the door?" It didn't take a team of top notch investigators to figure out what was going on. But Angela was as always the last one to the party. Poor girl, sometimes she didn't even know her self as well as other people seemed to.  
  
"Because I'm happy. It was a fun night. It was a great time and I'm happy that we went out."  
  
"Uh huh. Then why are you blushing?"  
  
"Because all of your insinuations are making me uncomfortable."  
  
"Angela...Angela, my darling daughter...I know you better than that. I know that you're smiling because your little heart is doing a dance at the thought of him. And I know that you just don't want your loving mother to know because you're such a private person."  
  
Angela didn't open her eyes. If for no other reason than it was easier to keep herself closed off a bit, there was no reason to tell her mother any more than she already knew.  
  
Mona poked Angela. "Is a good kisser at least?"  
  
"Mother?" Her voice was nearly a whine, but it seemed like the only legitimate response to the question.  
  
"Is that yes?"  
  
"I'm going to bed now," Angela said, propelling herself off of the couch and away from the interrogation.  
  
"Ok. If anything good happens, you better tell me," Mona called after her before settling into the couch a little further. She never thought it would happen. And maybe it hadn't quite yet. But one thing was for sure: there was definite potential for love between those two, and she'd do everything in her power to help them along.  
  
13***  
  
"Tony, you're home early tonight," Mrs. Rossini said, opening the door to her favourite neighbor.  
  
"Ha ha. How was Sam? Did she behave for ya?"  
  
"Like the perfect Angel she is," Mrs. Rossini whispered. "She played with Joey and Al, and then we did stories. That kid...she's smart."  
  
Tony smiled. "She is, ain't she?"  
  
"Like a whip. She even helped me with dinner."  
  
The thought of his little girl growing up so much was hard to swallow. It seemed like he missed everything with all the hours he had to work, and the past week had been more difficult. It was almost as if he had to make a conscious decision between Angela and Sam, and he wasn't sure he was prepared for that kind of choice.  
  
"So, who's the new girl?"  
  
Tony cocked his head to the side and pretended not to understand. "I went out drinkin' with the boys, I told ya earlier."  
  
"If the boys put that smile on your face then Tony, we really need to talk." Carmella grinned at him. "Seriously, you can tell me, Tony...I'm not gonna be mad at ya."  
  
"It's nothin', really. There ain't much to tell. Honest."  
  
"Ah, but there's somethin' otherwise you wouldn't have that look like I just caught ya in the cookie jar. Who is she?"  
  
"Eh oh, I ain't ashamed of nothin'. I just think that some things aren't worth talkin' 'bout yet."  
  
"Well, now it is. 'Cause if I'm gonna keep babysittin' for you, I wanna know what's goin' on..." She knew that was her trump card. She'd probably be able to get something out of him now.  
  
"Eh oh, oh eh, that's not fair! I ain't..." Just as Tony was about to start his rant, she managed to quiet him.  
  
"Anthony Morton Micelli... I've raised ya. I've spent as many years with you as I have with my own kids, and I love ya like a son. All I'm askin' is to know who the special girl is that's makin' you smile. I'm happy for ya, really."  
  
Tony felt perhaps a little comforted by her words, and he certainly did want to talk to someone about whatever was forming between him and Angela.  
  
"Last week, I met this woman...that night Philly took me out. We met in this club in Manhattan..."  
  
"Ya met a girl up town?"  
  
"Ang ain'ta girl," Tony corrected. "She's a woman. An executive..."  
  
"Hold on...you're tellin' me that this girl who's been ticklin' your fancy..."  
  
"Eh oh, she ain't ticklin' nothin'..."  
  
"Okay, this woman who's been stealin' your heart...she's an executive?" She was trying to wrap her mind around the thought of her Tony being in a relationship with some uptight, over-wound estrogen-less woman. This executive, whoever she was, was probably not as attractive as Tony deserved. Or as down to earth as he ought to have.  
  
"Yeah, she works in a hotshot advertising firm. She's Vice-President."  
  
"Anthony, do you hear yourself?"  
  
"What?" He knew that he should never say that to Mrs. Rossini in that defiant tone he just used. It was certainly not the way to make her change her opinion of Angela. Fighting would only make things worse.  
  
"Don't take that tone with me, young man..." She eyed him with the glare she had used on him many times before. She was good at it by now. She had mastered the fine art of putting him back in his place.  
  
"Mrs. Rossini, no offense, but I'm a grown man. And I can be friends with a woman from Connecticut if I want to. She's not gonna make me her slave and take her kid to Cub Scout meetings or whatever. She's not like that."  
  
"What's her name?" The death glare that she imparted on him was enough to send shivers down her spine. Really, she could be used as a form of naval intelligence.  
  
"Angela. Angela Bower."  
  
"And she's got a kid?"  
  
"Jonathon. He's a couple years younger than Sam." Tony wondered if this was leading towards vague acceptance or a disapproving lecture.  
  
"I wanna meet her."  
  
Tony felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. For all the things he expected her to say, demanding to meet Angela didn't even make the top 100. In fact, it never registered with him at all that she might make such a request. It was the first time Mrs. Rossini had made a demand to meet someone he had seen socially, and it was disconcerting.  
  
"I wanna meet her. If she's not some hoighty-toighty Barbie doll who thinks she's better than us, then fine. But I want to know you're not her token poor friend. I want to know that she's not gonna break your heart."  
  
"She ain't got my heart to break," Tony countered.  
  
"That's what you think! I meet her, I don't hate her, and fine. But if I do...I can't in good conscious let you play with that little girl's heart..." Pointing towards the bedroom, Mrs. Rossini made an impassioned plea.  
  
"I may as well given birth to ya, and Tony, that little girl is as much my granddaughter as any one could ever be. I can't let you let down your guard for some woman with an office and let her get hurt. Not if it ain't for real."  
  
"Mrs. R, we're friends...since when do you have the right to be pickin' my friends?"  
  
"Since you started thinkin' you could be friends with a woman...a Connecticut woman, no less!"  
  
Tony sighed. "Do you promise not to be too tough on her?"  
  
"I won't do nothin' I wouldn't do with any other girl you bring home..."  
  
"Madonna mia, poor Angela."  
  
"Poor nothin'. She probably makes more in a year than everyone in the neighbourhood combined. Connecticut ain't cheap."  
  
"I'll figure something out," Tony said, resigned that this was how it had to be, even if he didn't like it. "I'll let you know when I make the reservations."  
  
"Nuh uh," Mrs. R said strictly. "I ain't goin' to no restaurant to impress anyone. No way. She'll come here."  
  
"Eh, oh, that ain't fair. She'll feel cornered."  
  
"She can deal with it," Carmella stated sternly. "Now take your daughter home and tuck her in. And in the mornin' you best be callin' 5th avenue and getting her over here. Soon."  
  
14*** Tony thought it was best to make the invitation in person, and hopefully Angela wouldn't run screaming from the building. If she did, there wouldn't be much to tell Mrs. R, short of the truth. But if she decided to brave the nasty older neighbour, Tony thought it would be worth some kind of reward...He just hadn't decided what yet.  
  
A lame night at the opera had crossed his mind. It was the kind of thing Angela would like, and it certainly wouldn't kill him. He'd even done the research and found out that La Boheme was going to be at the Met.  
  
Tony had even considered the possibility of taking her to see Carson live. It was one of those touristy New York things she probably hadn't done, but it would be fun, and it would be an opportunity to do something somewhat fantastical.  
  
As he made his way up in the enormous elevator, Tony thought about how he'd ask, and how he'd explain that it wasn't necessarily his idea. It depended on how she took to the information whether or not he'd be that honest with her. After all, there was no use scaring the poor woman. He was barely sure what they were to each other, and after only two nights out, it seemed like hardly the time to put constraints on a relationship, be it friendly or romantic.  
  
When the doors opened and chimed her floor, Tony got off and wandered down the hallway hoping that the secretary wouldn't be there. It might seem strange for him to request to speak with Angela, and if he had any more obstacles to over come, he might very well chicken out again. He'd already tried twice before to talk to her. But their phone calls got distracted and it never quite managed to come up.  
  
Rounding the corner, his heart stopped. It was like being suspended in time, looking down over his life and realizing the all too familiar pattern.  
  
There she was. The secretary was propped on her elbows watching Angela speak to a rather attractive man who looked to be a few years her senior, but nonetheless handsome. His hair had greyed just in front of his ears, and Angela was laughing quite loudly at his joke, whatever it may have been. She was leaning towards him and her hand was on his forearm in that way that made it seem like maybe Tony had misread her signals on their nights out before.  
  
"Well, you're a hard man to say no to," Angela said sweetly and unfortunately loudly enough for Tony to hear. It felt like some one had harpooned him with a rusty spear, he thought. This, he imagined, was the stuff soap operas were made of.  
  
"Not many women have cause to say no to me," the man said, his expression alluding to something more than just a business conversation.  
  
Angela blushed, and turned to her secretary. "Think you might be able to get me a long lunch break?"  
  
"Sure. I can fit it in. But you've got a meeting with Peterson at 2:15." The secretary drew a line in the book, obviously crossing out a chunk of time.  
  
For a meeting, Tony thought. Yeah right. He couldn't really hate her though. She had never told him that they'd be anything more than friends, and although he had enjoyed the kisses they'd shared, it wasn't as if she had made him any promises. There weren't any promises. Not even the illusion that there might be something more for them. Other than the kisses.  
  
"Do you need me to sign for that?" The secretary obviously saw him, and he obviously was in a trance.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Overnighted from Charleston," he said, handing over his clipboard and the package.  
  
"Hi Tony," Angela said cheerfully. She looked at him and wondered what was wrong; he looked like a wounded animal about to crawl under a bush and lick his wounds.  
  
"Hey Mrs. Bower. Package here for you," he said, gesturing towards the desk. Trying to be non-chalant was tough when you were torn between feeling hurt and trying to figure out why you were feeling that way.  
  
She was taken aback. He had never called her Mrs. Bower before unless in an attempt to be funny. It certainly wasn't funny right now.  
  
"Oh, uh, thank you," she said, still trying to decipher what was going on.  
  
"We should get going, Ang, if we're going to fit in a whole two hours of lunch."  
  
She looked over at the man and nodded and back at Tony before she began to piece together what was going on.  
  
"Yeah, you don't have much time to uh, eat," Tony said before nodding his head cordially and disappearing down the hall.  
  
Every step seemed more like a jump towards the elevator, and only when he reached it did he realize that Angela and her mystery man were close behind him.  
  
Turning at the last possible second after hitting the button, Tony made a dash for the stairs and decided that eleven flights or not, he'd rather walk down them and burn off some frustration than to ride the elevator and listen to that guy get all chummy with Angela.  
  
15***  
  
"Why so glum," Mrs. Rossini asked Tony over dinner. It wasn't like she really needed to ask, considering she already seemed to know.  
  
He didn't want to give her the pleasure of an 'I told you so', and instead just kind of shrugged. "Don't much like winter," he mumbled.  
  
"Yeah, well that ain't ever stopped you from smilin' before, now has it?"  
  
"Guess not. But right now it's makin' a difference." Tony sighed.  
  
Settling in the chair across the table from him, she looked at his plate. It was still heaping with fettuccini al freddo and a biscuit. "What did that Angela woman do?"  
  
"Nothin'. She didn't do nothin'..." He didn't look up. Tony was afraid it might show what he was feeling. Considering he didn't know himself, he hardly wanted her to be one up.  
  
"So then 'cause she didn't do somethin' you're upset?"  
  
"Look, Mrs. R, it's hard to explain. But I'm tired. And that's why I'm not hungry. I think Sam and I should just go home and rest for the night. But thank you for dinner." He had been as polite as he could manage, and if polite would earn him points, he'd use that to his advantage.  
  
"Ya know it's not nice to keep secrets from me." She winked at him, hoping he'd notice that she was even trying to be nice about the girl.  
  
He shrugged. "I'm not hidin' anything from you, Mrs. R. There just ain't anything to tell."  
  
Standing up from the table, Tony neatly tucked in his chair and made his way to the door before calling Sam. "We're goin' home, honey, come on."  
  
Rushing out of the room, Sam grinned. "Thanks for the delicious dinner," the precocious young girl said before latching on to her father's side. "See ya tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah. See you tomorrow honey." Waving at her and blowing a kiss, Carmella hoped that the heartbreak Tony was feeling wouldn't filter down to Samantha. Samantha had enough heartbreak already in her life, and she didn't need borrowed troubles.  
  
Closing the door behind him, Tony wondered if Mrs. Rossini knew as much about what was going on as he thought she did.  
  
**  
  
"Hey, Angela, home on a Friday night? What did you do? What happened to Tony?" Mona made her energetic entrance into the living room only to be greeted by her daughter sitting restlessly on the couch with a stack of papers in front of her.  
  
"He, uh...He didn't call," she said simply before returning her attention to her paperwork.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So what?" Peering over her glasses at her mother, Angela wondered what the big deal was. So she wasn't going out and it was a Friday night. Certainly after thirty two dateless years her mother had to be used to it.  
  
"So...If he didn't call you, why didn't you call him? It isn't rocket science Angela. It's a matter of picking up a phone and dialing. Unless you don't want to see him." Mona watched carefully hoping to gauge her daughter's reaction.  
  
"Look...I saw him this week and..." Angela wondered if it was one of those things that she could say with out feeling silly."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"He saw me with Grant, okay?" Angela spit out the words as if their bad connotations were contagious.  
  
"He saw you doing what with Grant?" Perched on the arm of the sofa, Mona looked on with wide eyes.  
  
"He saw me flirting with him. I was flirting with Grant. But it was harmless, I swear." In a gesture of grandeur, Angela took off her glasses dramatically and practically threw them into the couch.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Could you stop saying that?" Angela's eyes were pleading with her.  
  
"What's the big deal? You were flirting with a man. I mean, it's a miracle, but it's not unheard of."  
  
"Because," Angela said. "It was very awkward. And the look on his face was so sad when he heard that Grant and I were taking a long lunch. It was just so painful," she confided.  
  
"Well I thought you two were only friends?" Mona raised an eyebrow, wondering if her daughter realized how much so she and Tony were not just friends.  
  
"We are. But we're friends who sort of...flirt with the idea of flirting?"  
  
"So you flirt...Every woman does, Angela. Welcome to the club."  
  
"But it's different. He was there. Tony was watching me throw my hair and lean in when Grant was talking...and I ... I touched Grant's arm in that ... that way." Angela was absolutely repulsed by her blatant flirtations. After all, she was obviously leading one of them on. And Grant was chairman of the board, so it couldn't possibly be him, could it?  
  
"Flirting badly is not a crime, Angela. No matter how transparently you do it. And if Tony's only a friend, it doesn't matter. Even if you flirt with the idea of flirting. Unless you want to flirt with the idea of doing more? At which point maybe you need to prioritize a bit?" Mona smiled. "He's an incredibly hunky man. And he sounds like he's quite the pushover for kids. What's the harm in flirting with the idea of flirting with something more...?"  
  
"If you say the word flirt one more time," Angela said in her sternest voice.  
  
"Flirt," Mona said teasingly, only to be attacked by a pillow from the sofa.  
  
Angela could barely contain her fit of giggles as she watched her mother fall forwards onto the couch and off of her makeshift pedestal.  
  
"Oh, that's just mean. You're a flirt whose mean to her mother—that's the worst kind," she teased before lifting the pillow and getting even.  
  
16***  
  
"Yeah?" Sam held the receiver to her ear, while laughing at her father who was yelling in the background about how to properly answer the phone.  
  
"Oh, hi, is this Samantha?"  
  
"Yep. Who's this?"  
  
"I'm a friend of your father's," Angela said sweetly, surprised by how Brooklyn the girl sounded. It wasn't a surprise in some ways. Certainly she grew up in Brooklyn and was living there now...but to sound quite that New York took her for a surprise.  
  
"Oh yeah? You Philly's new girlfriend? I hear you're quite the babe," Sam asked curiously before being lifted of the ground by her father.  
  
Angela could hear the tickle fight that was happening on the other end of the phone. A smile crossed her face as she realized just how great he was, and how much she regretted not having done something more to cement her hold on him.  
  
"Hello," he finally said, obviously winded from his tickle war with his daughter.  
  
"Uh, hi. Tony? It's me Angela."  
  
"Oh, hey." His heart sank and there was a wretched dry taste in his mouth.  
  
"I was wondering how you were doing?"  
  
"I'm alright. Sam and I are just talkin' bout the things we need to do this weekend. I promised her I'd take her shoppin' for some stuff." Tony looked at the little girl looking at him and decided that it would be best she not hear whatever might be said. Waiving her off to her room, Sam pouted and then obliged.  
  
"Sounds fun."  
  
"Well, daddy/daughter time never hurts." Tony tried to be as off-the-cuff as possible.  
  
"On the contrary, I'm sure it's really for the best," Angela answered, a little surprised by the detached tone of his voice.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So..." Angela tried to build the momentum to bring up the topic. She wanted to have some semblance of a conversation about what happened and how more than anything it wasn't because of Tony. Flirting was just a part of her relationship with Grant.  
  
There was silence. Tony wasn't helping her along at all, now was he?  
  
"Anyway, I called because I wanted to see if you wanted to go out tomorrow." She paused. Saturday was the official date night and going out would sort of force the issue. Perhaps it would help them decide what to do.  
  
"I don't know. Don't you already have plans?" Tony bit back his response, realizing that it must have sounded very inappropriate and harsh.  
  
"I wouldn't call if I did," Angela remarked coolly. This wasn't going so well. "That man at work—Grant—he's the chairman of the board of Wallace and McQuaid, and he's a good friend of mine."  
  
"Seemed like it," Tony grumbled. He had been thinking about it, wondering if there was any reason in particular that he had been so jealous seeing her with Grant. After all, their relationship was only a week old, but it had seemed to be a very intense week. Everything leading up to that moment when he saw her in the office tossing her hair had appeared to offer promise that they might be able to be something more.  
  
"Tony!" Angela had expected it to be an awkward phone call but never anything like it had become. The comfortable banter that they had come to enjoy had disappeared.  
  
"What? You want me to be happy that you're good friends with some guy that is rich and looks like he belongs on Dallas? You want me to jump up and down and be happy for you two?"  
  
"Can you get a babysitter for Sam?" Angela was much more forceful than even she had expected.  
  
"Look, Angela, I'm not sure I can be friends with a woman. I'm not sure that I'm wired right because I'm no good at this..."  
  
"Can you get a babysitter for Samantha?"  
  
Tony thought about it for a minute. Of course he could. There were about a dozen people in the building who would more than happily take his daughter for a few hours. "Probably," Tony said.  
  
"Good. I'll come in to see you. Give me your address and tell me how to get there." Angela had settled on a plan of action finally, and hoped that she was doing the right thing.  
  
"You wanna come in to Brooklyn?"  
  
"I want to talk to you. I'm willing to come to Brooklyn." Angela's statement was simple.  
  
"Look, it's late and it's not a good idea for you to be drivin' around down here. I'll go there," Tony said before he realized that he shouldn't have offered. He was making a huge concession going out there, and by doing it, he might be giving Angela the wrong message. Then again, he really didn't want her driving into the city by herself at night and trying to get around Brooklyn just to see him. It seemed too dangerous.  
  
"You don't mind?"  
  
Tony wanted to scream 'Yes, of course I mind' but he didn't. He resisted all temptation to tell her what he was feeling and thinking and instead grabbed a pen and paper. "No, just give me your address, and I'll find someone for Sam and then I'll be right out."  
  
"3344 Oakhills drive. There's an exit for Fairfield off the expressway, and then when you drive in to Fairfield you turn right on Oakfield Drive. Four blocks up you turn left on to Oakhills." Angela rambled off the instructions hoping they were clear enough. She didn't need him getting lost now that she had worked up a degree of courage.  
  
"Alright, I'll go talk to Mrs. Rossini, and I'll head out."  
  
"See you soon," Angela said, biting her lip. She'd need to figure out some way of talking to him about their relationship without sounding like she was as confused as...well, she was.  
  
Hanging up the phone, Tony wondered what he had gotten himself into. Why did it seem like his life was always so complicated?  
  
17***  
  
Pulling into the driveway of Angela's house, Tony wondered if it was such a good idea that he be there so late at night.  
  
After all, she was living somewhere like that...all white picket fences and huge two storey houses with acres of grass surrounding them... And all the while he was living in a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. There was a huge difference between them if you only looked at their backgrounds, but to compare their present situations seemed too perfect of a seismic indicator of their fates; he was a zero, and Angela was nothing less than a six on the Richter scale of life.  
  
Tony berated himself; he must have been kidding himself to have ever thought they might have been able to be friends.  
  
Approaching the door, Tony wondered if he should just turn back there. Not even use the doorbell. Just turn around and go back to Brooklyn. You can explain it away later, he thought.  
  
But he couldn't. There was this damn magnetic force pulling him towards the door and no matter how many times his better angels told him to turn around and high-tail it back to Brooklyn, he couldn't muster the courage.  
  
Pressing the doorbell, he knew that he didn't have much choice at this point. It seemed like forever between ringing the bell and the door actually opening.  
  
"Hey," he said, wondering if she always looked that good or if it was just because he had been so mad at her that her jeans fit her particularly well.  
  
"Hi. You made really good time," Angela commented off handedly, noting how sad he looked, and how much she wanted to change that. She had never had such an intense urge to hug someone as she had that moment. But hugs weren't just hugs for them, and it would likely lead to something more. It would be best if she kept her distance for a while.  
  
"Well there ain't much traffic at this time of night, and I didn't stop. I figured I'd get here so we could get this over with and then I'd make it home at a decent hour—Sam and I are gonna go play over a few blocks for a father/son tournament." Tony soaked up the atmosphere of the house. It was so sterile. It was, he thought, pretty much everything he had expected. Not that he thought she was sterile...or, uh...that she was bland, but that she just didn't have the passion in her to really decorate. Everything was exactly where it should be and the colors were more or less pleasant, although very much a cookie cutter design. The entire house seemed as if it could have easily stepped out of a catalogue.  
  
"Father/son?"  
  
"Well, I ain't got a son, and she ain't got a brother, so whenever these things come up, Sam and I sign up bright and early so we can get a place on the roster, and then we mop the floor with the other teams." Tony laughed. "Sam's great at sports. Better than most boys. Better than most men," he corrected.  
  
Angela didn't know what to think so instead she just shook her head and invited him in. "Come on in, have a seat," she said, waiving him into the living room.  
  
"Thanks," he said, slipping his shoes off at the door and hanging his own jacket on the hook on the armoire.  
  
As they settled themselves in the seats, they both stared at each other, not sure of what to say next. All pleasantries they could possibly exchange had been used. What now?  
  
"I'm sorry about the other day," Angela said quickly, spitting the words out and hoping that he might not make this any more difficult.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For in the office. That thing. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she offered, wondering if it was just a matter of not wanting to make him uncomfortable or if she felt like in some strange way she was cheating on him.  
  
Tony shrugged. "We're just supposed to be friends, right? So what's the big deal? We're friends. If you wanna be all over some other guy, who'm I to stop ya?"  
  
His words were scathing, and the tone of his voice made her feel like she was being reprimanded, although for what she wasn't sure. He was right; they weren't in a relationship. "All over? I was not all over Grant. Not even the slightest."  
  
"Could have fooled me," Tony countered. "I've seen jeans that laid a little further from the skin." As soon as his words escaped his mouth, Tony realized that he had just crossed the line. He had never intended to imply that she was easy.  
  
"Tony!" Her voice was shaky in disbelief. How was it possible that a man she had felt such a close connection to was suddenly calling her a tramp?  
  
"Eh oh, oh eh, I'm sorry," he said, noting that he had made her cry. He hadn't come all the way into Fairfield just to upset her. That was the last thing he wanted to do.  
  
Shuffling nearer to her on the couch, Tony wondered if he was just being a sucker. If he fell back into that trap of thinking they stood a chance, would he be able to escape it with his heart?  
  
"Look, I don't know why you think that what was happening between me and Grant was so bad, but it wasn't anything. Seriously. He's a friend, and we've always had that kind of relationship..." Angela chewed her lower lip. "When you showed up, I thought maybe I blew my chance at having you as a friend...when you left so upset."  
  
Tony cringed. He had been a total jerk to her. It would be complicated to just be friends with a woman like her, but maybe he owed them the chance. "My problem is that I kinda see us as more than just friends, sometimes. And I know I don't have any right to think that way 'cause I'm not your type—Grant is..."  
  
Angela smiled. He wanted something more as well, and even if it wasn't coming across as clearly as it could have, it was still there. He felt more than he was letting on and even the mere thought of that synchronicity made her heart flutter. Leaning nearer to him she pressed the most delicate and uncomplicated kiss to his lips, hoping he'd understand what she was saying. When he stared at her in blissful confusion, she smiled. "Who says Grant is my type?"  
  
"I uh, I just assumed I guess," Tony said in surprise, wondering where the kiss had come from.  
  
"You know what they say about assuming?"  
  
Tony didn't know what to say. He'd heard about a dozen things and he wasn't sure what she was about to say.  
  
But instead of saying anything she leaned in again and very softly kissed his lips, this time more longingly. Her hands gingerly touched his, before he managed to do anything for himself. It was safe to say Tony was consumed by her taste and presence.  
  
"When you assume, you miss out on all the fun stuff," Angela said quietly, her hands now resting on his thighs.  
  
"I've not heard that before..." Tony nearly whispered breathlessly.  
  
"But now you know it's true," she pointed out.  
  
There was a moment of silence in which they both wondered if their relationships were clearly enough defined. There were parts of it that still seemed foggy at best.  
  
"Just to clear some stuff up," Tony began, "are we still bein' friends."  
  
"Yes," Angela said, smiling, "I don't want to be with anyone who isn't a friend."  
  
Tony didn't want to ask about what kind of 'being with' she was thinking of. Sooner or later she'd tell him, and until then, half the fun was in trying to sort out their relationship.  
  
"Mrs. Rossini wants to meet you—that's what I had come to tell you the other day."  
  
"Oh really?" Angela looked on, a little nervous by what he might mean by 'meet'. Was this turning into one of those notoriously frightening 'meet the parents' things, and if so, would it be so bad merely meeting the neighbour?  
  
"She's just wonderin' what you're like. She ain't never met a real life workin' woman before. Or at least, not one that was in competition to run the business." Tony smiled sweetly, hoping she would say yes to the dinner. In his heart of hearts, he knew that Mrs. R's opinion really did matter to him and if he tried to have a relationship without her approval then it was just as good as doomed.  
  
"Do you promise not to introduce me like a science project," Angela asked, her voice relaying not only a teasing tone, but also an underlying note of insecurity.  
  
"How would you like to be introduced," Tony asked innocently.  
  
"As your date," Angela offered, "or as your friend. But definitely not as the real life working woman, or whatever it was."  
  
"Deal. But only if you promise not to let her scare ya..." Tony's fingers ran over the back of her hand, tracing an outline.  
  
"Promise." Smiling, Angela breathed a sigh of relief, glad that at least some of the obstacles they were facing were minute enough that they could bargain their way through them.  
  
18***  
  
Three outfits and two hairstyles later, Angela finally bounded down the steps ready for the dinner with Mrs. Rossini. She had tried on just about everything she owned over the course of the last week but had narrowed it down to two, which she tossed aside at the last moment deciding that they really weren't what she wanted. Everything she owned was so professional, she thought, and cold. She needed to find something warm and comfortable, and that certainly was no small feat.  
  
Finally everything had been down to two outfits once again: a blue off-the- shoulder dress which was otherwise quite simple, save for the gold broach that rested ornately on the left breast-side, or the green dress that was beautifully simple, straight cut and flattering.  
  
The choice had been hard, but the deep green dress was complimentary to her eyes, and it looked great with her hair pulled back in a hair clip.  
  
"Jonathon, honey, are you ready?" Calling back up the stairs, she transferred the items from her day purse into her evening purse and watched the mirror image of her. She did look pretty good. In fact, she looked better than pretty good; despite what she felt were her greatest flaws, she looked attractive and feminine.  
  
"Almost. Do I have to wear this?" Stepping on to the landing, Jonathon looked pleadingly at his mother.  
  
Maybe she had overdone it. His outfit for dinner was a pair of little gray slacks and a sweater. Nah, she thought. He looked really cute. Even if he didn't look Brooklyn, who would she have to be kidding to even think about looking 'Brooklyn'.  
  
"You look cute, honey."  
  
"I look like a geek," he added.  
  
"Well, tonight's dinner is sort of important, so I would appreciate it if you'd wear that, ok?" Angela hoped that her bargaining was working. She did not need him whining all night about how much he hated the clothes.  
  
Jonathon just nodded and made his way down the steps and towards his jacket. "Where we going anyway? I heard you tell Grandma that we had to be on the train early."  
  
Angela smiled. "We're going into the city. Remember how I told you I wanted you to meet my friend, Tony?"  
  
Jonathon nodded, but glared at his mother suspiciously.  
  
"Well, we're going to Brooklyn to have dinner with his friend and his daughter." Angela smiled sweetly. It really did feel like she was about to be fed to the vultures. For a kid, he sure was tough.  
  
"Brooklyn?" The look on his face definitely expressed a degree of curiosity; he hadn't thought that his mom would ever date a man from outside of Connecticut. Then again, she never actually said this was a date.  
  
"Uh huh," she said, sliding on her coat and pulling her purse over her shoulder. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yep," he nodded in like, ready to venture in to Brooklyn. He'd never been before, so at least he was going to a new place.  
  
**  
  
"Mrs. R, Sam and I have to go and pick up Angela and Jonathon in a few minutes. Is there anything you need while we're out?" Tony bellowed into the kitchen, knowing it was safest if he didn't step too near the door. At any moment Mrs. Rossini would propel herself through the door and towards him.  
  
As if on a countdown, the woman appeared effortlessly, her raven black hair unmoving, despite the courant of air she brought with her. "Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony...Have I ever had a bad dinner here?"  
  
Tony knew better than to remind her of the time Joe had accidentally eaten the dessert and all of the bread, leaving them with huge amounts of lasagna, but not much else. And he definitely did not want to remind her of the time she had planned on making dinner for everyone, but having forgotten to set the clocks back an hour, she was caught off guard. Those were both examples of a greater force at work, he knew. Of the thousands of dinners she had hosted, there had only been two or three more that he could think of that hadn't gone exactly as planned, and for those occasions, she had made them pay dearly.  
  
"You've been a star hostess," Tony assured her. "I was just askin' if there was anything you might want. You know, sometimes things get missed or sometimes I change my mind at the last second."  
  
Mrs. Rossini smiled. "Tony, you're such a good boy. Really." Pinching his cheeks, Mrs. R laughed at his expression. "Now go. You have a lady friend whose gonna be waitin' at the station for ya."  
  
"Sam, baby, it's time to get goin'. We've gotta pick up Angela and Jonathon from the station."  
  
"Can I stay here," Sam asked, her words relaying a rather distraught intonation.  
  
"Eh oh, why should ya?"  
  
"'Cause I don't want nobody to know I wear these things," Sam said, making her way out of the bedroom wearing a purple dress with little pink flowers on it. "I feel like...like a girl. One of those prissy ones..."  
  
"Tony! Where did ya buy that? It's so cute!" Mrs. Rossini smiled broadly at the little girl.  
  
"I picked it up last week. From Macy's. I thought it'd be nice for Sam to own a dress, but she doesn't seem to think so."  
  
"It's frilly," Sam objected.  
  
"It's cute," Carmella pointed out.  
  
"Okay, okay, enough. We've gotta get goin' before we're late." Grabbing his coat from the closet, Tony tossed Sam's to her. "Let's go, kiddo."  
  
A few moans and groans later, Sam was right behind her father, on the way to meet this mystery woman from Connecticut.  
  
19***  
  
Angela looked frantically around the train station. She had never been in to the Brooklyn stop, and now that she had, she thought, she was glad she didn't do it more often.  
  
It was like suddenly she had stepped into a whole new world where things around her were talking with thick accents. It certainly wasn't a world she was accustomed to.  
  
"Mom, are you sure this is the stop we wanted?" Jonathon held on to her hand tightly, as if holding on for dear life. As much as he loved and trusted his mother, he was starting to doubt her better judgment.  
  
"Yes, of course I'm sure," Angela comforted him, but secretly she was wondering if she really wanted to stand here waiting for Tony. Hopefully he wouldn't be too long, was all she could think.  
  
"Angela?" A voice from behind her called. When she turned on her heel, she saw Tony standing there in a brown leather jacket and a pair of dark cords. Whatever concern she had quickly dissipated.  
  
Looking to his right, Angela saw the most beautiful little girl she had ever seen. She was wearing this darling little dress in pink and purple, but first and foremost, she had these big brown eyes and the olive complexion of her father. That little girl was exceptionally beautiful.  
  
"Hey," Sam said, nervously looking between the tall blonde woman and the small boy beside her. They definitely did not look like they belonged in Brooklyn. She looked more like someone you'd find in a magazine on the cover, tall and thin and beautiful. But the boy seemed gawky, and nervous.  
  
"Hi," Jonathon said, trying to size up the people in front of them. He'd never met anyone like them in real life before. The accents, the way they dressed...It was pretty obvious that they weren't from Connecticut.  
  
Angela and Tony watched the exchange between the kids. It was cute, if not a little disconcerting how they were sizing each other up, trying to rationalize the differences.  
  
"So, Sam, you look very pretty," Angela said, bending down to speak to the girl on eye level.  
  
"Thanks. Dad bought this for me to wear today." Sam looked at the necklace around the woman's neck. "That's very pretty," she said, pointing towards the diamond drop necklace.  
  
"Why thank you," Angela smiled, glad that this was only somewhat awkward as opposed to blatantly so.  
  
"My dad bought that for her," Jonathon interjected, as if it would be different if it were a gift from his father than if it was just something pretty she bought herself. He had to reinforce that his father was indeed still in the picture, even if it wasn't obvious at that moment.  
  
Angela looked up at Tony, and wondered if this was a sign of things to come. "Yes, well, Michael bought it for me after Jonathon was born--it was a gift."  
  
It seemed like a silly thing to point out, but she didn't want Tony thinking that she was clinging to her past. She wore it because it was the one gift Michael had ever given her that meant anything--the diamond solitaire necklace was to represent their child, and how he would always be near to her heart. It had been a corny gift, but it was also really sentimental, and it was so rare that he had done something nice like that for her.  
  
"Well it's beautiful," Tony said, kicking himself for not outlining things more clearly for Samantha before this point. He probably should have told her more honestly about his relationship with Angela. Not that there was much to tell, but he wondered if she knew more than he thought she did. "And you look great too."  
  
"Thanks," Angela blushed, almost forgetting about the children for a moment, trying to fight off the urge to lean over and kiss him.  
  
"We should get going--Mrs. R has enough food set up to feed an army," Tony laughed, before taking Sam's hand and smiling at Jonathon. "You like Italian food?"  
  
"What kind?" Jonathon took his mother's hand more tightly in his own and debated how eager to be. He was starving, and it was so rare that they ate anything other than cereal and basic foods. He was sick of spaghetti, but he liked other kinds of Italian food.  
  
"I think it's Chicken Parmigiana and rottini pasta with a few different sauces," Tony explained.  
  
"And Mrs. R is making her special treat for us for after dinner," Sam pointed out. "It tastes so good. It's to die for!"  
  
"Oooh," Angela said, smiling. "Let's not put it off any longer!"  
  
Tony laughed at her sudden eagerness and led them out of the station and towards the van. "I gotta warn ya, the van is a little tough to get used to, but it's a ride, so just pretend it's nicer than it is."  
  
"Eh oh," Sam interrupted, "it's plenty fine! It's our van and it works real well!"  
  
"Workin' well isn't a way I'd describe the van, but ok," Tony conceded.  
  
When they finally found it, Tony could tell that Angela was a little skeptical of the blue rusted van. It wasn't what she was used to--it wasn't even remotely like anything she had ever been in, which was saying a lot. She hadn't always been as 'comfortable' as she was now. There were times when funds were tighter, but they had never been so tight that she would have to drive something that dilapidated.  
  
"That's your car?" Jonathon looked at it with wide eyes.  
  
"Yeah, what's your problem?" Sam stared down at him, her posture clearly letting him know that she wasn't at all shy or nervous about letting him know what she thought.  
  
"It's old," Jonathon pointed out.  
  
"Jonathon!" Angela was mortified by her son's statement. "I think I need to talk to him alone for a minute," Angela said, leading her son away from the van and over a few vehicles. "Excuse us, we'll only be a minute," she called back, over her shoulder.  
  
Tony looked down at Sam. "Be nice to him, Sam, it's hard for him to understand. They're not from Brooklyn. Things happen different in Connecticut."  
  
"Why should I be nice? He's the one who's insultin' us and bein' rude. I was bein' nice!"  
  
"Just give them a chance--Angela's real nice and I really want this dinner to go good, so please don't make this hard." Tony's tone was soft and desperate, and Sam could tell pretty quickly how much this meant to him.  
  
"I'll be nice, but he better be careful or else I'm gonna have to knock his Connecticut teeth out."  
  
"Eh oh!"  
  
"Okay, I'll just have to knock him around."  
  
Tony looked at her, realizing she really was a chip off the old block, and how bad that could be in the long term.  
  
A couple of car lengths away, things were going equally badly.  
  
"Jonathon," Angela exclaimed, wondering what she should have done to better prepare him for this. "Why are you being so rude?"  
  
"I wasn't being rude! I was pointing out that their van is old."  
  
"That's being rude! Tony's my friend, and yes, he doesn't have a new car, but that doesn't mean anything. It's not important. What is important is that he's a good person." Angela tried to keep her tone even and calm, but really she couldn't believe that her son had the capacity to be that rude.  
  
"Why are we here, anyway? Are you dating Tony?" Jonathon squared his shoulders and stared his mother down.  
  
Angela felt her stomach do flips. "What would make you think that I'm dating Tony?"  
  
"The way you look at him. And you're making me go to dinner with you and him and his daughter."  
  
"That doesn't mean I'm dating him."  
  
"But you want to?"  
  
"Jonathon, no matter how you feel about my friends, you're not allowed to be rude. You know better than that. I expect you to be on your best behaviour. And if you have nothing nice to say, I recommend you don't say anything because I don't want to hear any more negativity from you. Okay?" Angela looked down on him sternly, hoping that Tony wasn't watching her from the van, thinking about how horrid of a parent she was.  
  
"Okay," Jonathon agreed, before turning to go back to the van. He fully intended to say as little as possible.  
  
20***  
  
Mrs. Rossini virtually flew to the door when she saw Tony's van pull up outside the building. She had to get a preview of whomever it was he was bringing home to her.  
  
From the third floor, the woman did not look like anything special. She was very thin, Carmella thought, and that would probably because she worked too hard. The boy seemed normal enough, although he did seem over dressed. It was probably his mother's fault.  
  
Sneaking away from the window, Mrs. R. ran towards the door and counted to four before opening the door. "TONY!" She called down the steps, knowing they were probably on a few steps down still. She had heard the chatter in the hallway, but really, she just wanted them to make it up the steps and be there.  
  
It was rare for her to make such a demand on Tony--in fact, she had never made him bring a 'friend' home--but she was certain that Angela would be more than a friend if he had his way. Somewhere between telling Tony to bring her over for dinner and that moment she had decided that she would figure out where they were going and either make the move towards helping them get together, or keeping them apart.  
  
"Mrs. R, sorry, we ran into traffic," Tony called.  
  
"Yeah, and Mrs. Bower needed a bathroom stop," Sam added.  
  
Angela blushed. If she wasn't so nervous, she probably wouldn't have drank three sodas before she left the house. Or the coffee at the train station. And then there was the slurpee that Jonathon couldn't finish. But she had so it seemed pretty inevitable that less than ten minutes away from their destination, she would beg Tony to stop so she could pee.  
  
"Sorry," she called up, now able to see the raven-haired woman waiting for them.  
  
Wrapping his arms around her, Tony whispered into Mrs. R's ear. "Play nicely. Please, please play nicely."  
  
Mrs. Rossini smiled kindly at him, before patting his shoulder. "Sambina, how're you sweetie?"  
  
"Good. Jonathon gets motion sick though." Shrugging her shoulders, she made her way into the apartment.  
  
"Need some fresh air," she asked the little boy.  
  
"I would have been fine if I didn't drink that blueberry slushy at the station," Jonathon defended.  
  
"Well, if you need anythin' you let me know, 'k?" She ruffled his hair and smiled, thinking about how he wasn't as confident as little boys should be, but that if Tony had his way, he'd be able to help that along.  
  
"Thank you," he said shrinking into the apartment, leaving the adults standing at the door.  
  
"Mrs. R, this is my friend, Angela Bower. Angela Bower, this is my second- mother, Mrs. Rossini." Tony gestured between the two women, hoping that everything would continue to go well.  
  
"Hi," Angela said, holding out her hand, before being drawn into a tight hug.  
  
"Welcome," Mrs. Rossini said, squeezing the woman tightly, realizing that Angela was as thin as she looked.  
  
"Thanks," Angela squeaked out, unsure if air could actually reach her lungs.  
  
Being ushered into the apartment, Angela wondered what she had gotten herself into. It had been back enough trying to convince Tony that she wasn't in a relationship with Grant, but how was she ever going to convince Mrs. Rossini that she belonged there. Angela was barely convinced.  
  
"So, Angela, you wanna give me a hand in the kitchen?" Taking the younger woman by the hand, Mrs. Rossini pulled her into the kitchen, leaving Tony staring after them, worried about what might happen.  
  
"You kids go play for a bit, why don't yas, and I'll call ya when dinner's ready," Tony instructed, hoping that Sam and Jonathon would bond, and the women in the kitchen wouldn't hurt each other.  
  
**  
  
"So, what do you need me to do," Angela asked, hoping that whatever the task was, she'd manage to get through it. She had almost no experience in the kitchen, so it was more than draining water or cutting the ends off of vegetables, she'd be toast. No pun intended.  
  
"Just grab the plates from the cupboard above the sink, and the silverware, please," Mrs. Rossini said, tending carefully to her sauce and chicken.  
  
Angela complied, not wanting to do anything that might alienate the older woman, but wondered if she had 'sensed' her ineptitude in the kitchen.  
  
"Where'd you meet Tony?" It seemed like a totally off the cuff question, but still managed to be digging enough to force the issue.  
  
"Oh, at a swing club in the city. My mother took me there..." Angela hoped that whatever she would say would comply with whatever Tony had already told the woman.  
  
"Your mother?"  
  
"Yes, she thinks I need to have more of a, uh, life," Angela said quietly, hoping that in some way or another this would all be a bad dream and she wouldn't really be trapped in the kitchen with some woman giving her the third degree.  
  
"Ya don't have a life?" Mrs. Rossini carefully chose her questions. She knew that somethings (like Angela's career) would be off limits in Tony's mind, but if the questioning just so happened to bring up the topic, then it wasn't her fault.  
  
"I work a lot. I work for the twelfth largest advertising agency in the country. I'm senior vice-president there."  
  
"Ohh, fancy!"  
  
Angela felt the sweat forming on her brow. This was worse than one of those movies with the investigator who stares at you and yells, shining bright lights in your face. This was much worse. She might as well have been standing in a firing line.  
  
"Well, it's a good job. I love it."  
  
"And how 'bout your boy? Who's he got around while you're at work?" There it was--the question of questions. If for no other reason than to ask it, she managed to fit it into the flow of conversation.  
  
Damn it, Angela thought. This would be the rope she'd need to hang herself.  
  
"Well, we have a housekeeper, and she's very good. Jonathon also attends cub scouts and spends lots of time with his friends," she clarified. "And I spend as much time as I can."  
  
"What happened to your husband? What he die of?"  
  
"He's not dead," Angela said, feeling the intensity of the light getting stronger and stronger, her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head and the pressure behind them felt like it was a balloon filling with helium. Never before had she felt so much pressure; not even on one of her multi-million dollar accounts in the early days of her career. "He's a documentary-maker. He's in a jungle somewhere," Angela added. She might as well just sell herself up the river and deal with it. There was no turning back now.  
  
"You're divorced?" Carmella's tone was that of a mortified woman. She was obviously very upset by the prospect of her Tony spending time with a divorcee.  
  
"Actually, we're not divorced, we're separated," Angela mumbled. The hot flash that she had been feeling suddenly became a cold flash, her skin felt clammy and her head felt like it was floating. The helium balloon must have filled too full because the next thing she knew she was on the cold linoleum and her eyes were closed. She had heard the shrillness of Mrs. Rossini's voice calling to Tony, and then the flurry of activity, but it was like she was listening to a record. All there was were noises, and the faint realization of what she'd see if she were there. Only she was there, and she wasn't seeing anything.  
  
21***  
  
"Angela? Angela, you gotta wake up..."  
  
She could feel a hand on hers, and she was laying somewhere nice and soft. There was no good reason she could conceive of to open her eyes and return to the interrogation that was dinner with the Rossinis.  
  
As she slowly started to come to, Tony felt a wave of relief. He had wanted to take her to the hospital, but Mrs. R had convinced him that she was probably just too hungry. Her rationale was that Angela was much too thin, so her body probably just gave out from under her. Although he didn't agree, he also wasn't sure what he'd tell them at the emergency room.  
  
"Hey," Tony said, leaning over her from his perch beside her on the bed.  
  
"Hi," Angela managed to say, her throat dry. "What happened?" She still hadn't managed to open her eyes. There was a comfort to the darkness, but still, inevitably she'd have to open them.  
  
"You passed out in the kitchen," Tony told her. "You know, if you dislike kitchens that much, you could have stayed in the living room."  
  
Angela tried to laugh but it hurt too much. "I don't know why that happened. It's really strange." Opening her eyes, she was oddly comforted to have him that near to her.  
  
"Yeah," Tony agreed. "But are you feeling better now?" His eyes were full of concern for her. There wasn't anyway he could really successfully hide it.  
  
"Thirsty, and tired. But I'm alright," she added, hoping he wouldn't worry too much.  
  
"Do you want me to get you a drink?"  
  
Angela nodded before closing her eyes again. She still wasn't sure what had caused her to faint, so how was she going to explain it away?  
  
It seemed like he had jest left when he reappeared with her drink. "Sip this, and just relax for a bit. The kids are out playing with Joey and Mrs. R's cousin Al, and the kids have eaten. There ain't no big rush," he said quietly. "We can hide out in here for at least another twenty minutes."  
  
"Hide?"  
  
"Mrs. Rossini—she's a tough lady, I know."  
  
"I didn't faint on purpose," Angela said, nearly defensively.  
  
"I know, I know. But still. I'm just sayin' that we might as well hide for a bit."  
  
She just nodded. She couldn't believe how incredibly tired she was, or how wiped out she felt.  
  
"What was she saying to you to get you so worked up," Tony asked, his voice betraying him and relaying more concern than he should feel for someone who's a friend, but it wasn't like he could kid himself. He wasn't just her friend, and she probably thought of him as more as well.  
  
"I think its just stress. I've had a few tough days at work and combine that with the fact that my son seems to be angry with the world and me. I guess I'm not handling it as well as normal." Inching up a bit in the bed she finally started to absorb the atmosphere around her—it was more colour and pictures than she had ever seen in her life, and they all seemed to be spread around the room in perfect rows and sections.  
  
"Anything I can do to help?" Tony's hand rested comfortably beside hers, his fingers just barely touching her skin.  
  
"Explain to my son that resentment doesn't get him anywhere? Tell Grant that by pushing a new campaign direction at the eleventh hour he's gambling 1.5 million dollars? Or if you'd like, you could try to explain what we are to each other, because that's not lessening my stress at all..." Angela realized only after she said it that she had gotten carried away. She had never intended to blame him for her stress at all. In fact, if anything he had mostly made her feel better  
  
Tony wasn't sure how to reply. "Well, if it's stressful for you, maybe it's a bad idea. I mean, things like this aren't meant to be this hard, right? So this is just more proof that we're too different to make it work. So...we're friends. That's all we can be," Tony said, swallowing back a lump in his throat. It was the kind of concession he wasn't sure he wanted to make but was otherwise certain he'd have no choice.  
  
"That's not what I mean," Angela tried to recover, but it was probably too late.  
  
"I'm gonna go find the kids and see if they're ready for dessert. You should take a nap and try to rest up s'more, and then when you're feelin' better we can have dinner. Or I can just drive you back to Connecticut. Or the train station. Which ever is easier for you." Tony stood and walked away from the bed, refusing to look back. It was easier than looking at her and feeling his heart break again. Anything would be easier than to see her sitting there, secretly wishing he wasn't in the room, which he could imagine had crossed her mind.  
  
"Tony...Please, don't go?" Angela's voice was pleading with him.  
  
"I gotta go find the kids," he excused, pulling the door shut behind him and secretly wishing the pieces of his heart were more intact.  
  
Looking around the room, Angela fought her tears and closed her eyes. Maybe it had all been a bad dream and none of this was really happening. Maybe she hadn't just pushed away the best thing that had come into her life since Jonathon, and before him, since...She couldn't even think of anything.  
  
There was this man, who was willing to be her friend, but who was also willing to be more, and she had managed to successfully push him away from her and make him feel small.  
  
"Good going," Angela said to herself, holding in her tears for as long as she could.  
  
22***  
  
Dinner had passed in relative quiet. Nobody was really doing much in the way of conversation, which was probably for the best, but it made everyone incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
Mrs. Rossini was afraid that at a mention of just about anything, Angela might faint again, and this time Tony might actually blame her for it. Tony, on the other hand was trying not to be angry with Angela, but to little avail. It seemed as if things between them were stalled out again, already. Angela, for her part, was sitting quietly, chewing carefully, trying not to choke on anything. She figured that would be a perfect way to end a night like this.  
  
As they were getting ready to leave, Angela decided to take one last crack at it. "Tony, can we talk, for one second, please?"  
  
He didn't seem overly enthusiastic about it, but he nodded, and then gestured towards the fire escape.  
  
"You want us to climb out a window to talk?" She looked at him, confused and more than a little concerned about her climbing abilities.  
  
"It's the fire escape, and it's the only privacy you get around here—and even that's limited, so yeah, I want us to climb out a window to talk." Opening the window and moving the curtains to the side, Tony waited for Angela to come over.  
  
Holding her arm, one arm around her waist, Tony held on firmly to make sure she didn't fall and then expertly followed behind her and out the window.  
  
"You do that well," Angela pointed out.  
  
"Years of practice," Tony said offhandedly.  
  
He turned over a carton that had been sitting on the fire escape and used his hand to make sure it was clean. "Here, have a seat."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Tony nodded cordially and smiled. He really only wanted to drive her back so that he could get back, put Sam to bed and relax a bit. And figure out what he was thinking.  
  
"Tony..."  
  
"Look, Angela, I'm sorry for walkin' out on you earlier, but I guess I was just kinda hurt. I mean, I understand where you're comin' from because relationships—all of 'em—are stressful. I guess I was just scared 'cause I don't do so well with stress, and I know how I handle it."  
  
Angela watched this man in front of her stare down at her with big brown eyes from his perch on the fire escape, and she felt her heart melt.  
  
It was one move. One really simple move, but it still seemed to be enough to make her feel more in tune with Tony. Sitting beside him on the fire escape, Angela took his hand in hers, and relaxed into his hold. He was warm and safe, and any number of other beautiful things that she could think of without regret or apprehension.  
  
"I'd like us to really give this a try—I mean, I'd like us to stop dancing around it and build something." Angela smiled softly at him, moving closer to him, wondering if she was being too aggressive.  
  
"I'm great at buildin' things," Tony pointed out, drowning in the smell of her perfume.  
  
"Oh yeah," she asked.  
  
"Along with other things."  
  
Angela moved in for a kiss, content that for a moment there was nothing in their way, and that for a moment the world was looking more just and comfortable.  
  
When their lips touched, Tony wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his mind spinning a mile a minute.  
  
Angela's head was spinning from excitement and exhilaration. She never would have expected a moment like that after the night she had.  
  
"I'm glad that we crossed paths," she whispered against his lips. "I don't know how it happened, but I'm happy it did."  
  
Tony smiled, unable to contain what could only be described as blissful excitement. For once there was an opportunity that he felt inclined to explore and he had no intentions of letting go.  
  
"I'm glad that you didn't like that Craig guy," Tony pointed out, which made Angela laughed.  
  
"I definitely didn't like him."  
  
"But you like me?"  
  
"A lot," she clarified.  
  
"Good," Tony said, before leaning in for another kiss. 


End file.
